The strangest things can change the fate of nations; so it is in this tale.
For some reason that history and even legend have forgotten, Emil Dúnduin was raised speaking Sindarin; he knew neither Quenya, nor even the Common Speech. Of course, Sigrun came from a time before the Common Speech existed (the Folk of Haleth not even speaking a similar tongue to the other Houses of the Edain), so it was good that she spoke oddly accented and slightly archaic Sindarin; and Mikkel spoke both Quenya and even more heavily accented Sindarin, but neither the Common Speech nor the secret language of the Dwarves, as those close and suspicious folk would not let even one fostered among them learn that greatest of their secrets.
So it was that only Tuuri and Lalli (and the Wizard; but Wizards are rather expected to know every tongue in Middle-Earth) spoke Westron of the Westron expedition into the East; fortunately, Tuuri also spoke Sindarin and Quenya; unfortunately, Lalli spoke neither.
*
Reynir Half-Elven was the youngest of his kin, and the only “natural” (though most said “accidental”) son of his parents, who had taken in war orphans from Thranduil’s realm before Reynir’s advent. Also, Reynir was red-haired, a “gift” from his human father. This was why Reynir had ever been made to tend the flocks.
One day, Reynir caught sight of the Lonely Mountain in the distance, and something within him snapped. That night, he fled from the home in which he had been raised, heading for the wide world that awaited him.
He had some vague idea of going to Greenwood the Great, the realm of Thranduil whence his brothers and sisters had come, but ran into a Dwarven caravan instead. He thought they were headed to ancient Dwarrowdelf, when they had actually come from that place, and were headed toward the Eastern Sea.
This was a time when Dwarves and Elves were still close in friendship, so the caravan gladly took Reynir along.
*
“Make for the Eastern Sea; there I shall meet you when my own tasks are complete.” So saying, the Blue Wizard vanished.
“You know,” Sigrun said, “for a leader, he isn’t one to really lead, if you get my drift.”
Mikkel hummed before replying, “Yes, I’ve noticed your--dissatisfaction, shall we say?--with his shepherding of our group.”
“What did he say?” Tuuri whispered to Emil, who shrugged in perplexity.
“Dissatisfaction is rather a more paltry word than I would have used,” Sigrun replied. “But the Wizard is gone, and we must have a leader.”
“I think we were all rather assuming that the Wizard meant you for that task,” Emil said, before Mikkel could reply.
“Oh, good,” Sigrun said. “I won’t have to hurt anyone to make that official. Well, then, Short Stuff: let’s go!”
Tuuri set their wain in motion, heedless of how Lalli lurched over one side. Emil was not nearly so uncaring, though he hid it behind revulsion.
*
“Sigrun!” Tuuri yelped at the devastation spread across the road. Charred wains of odd design blocked their path in a panoply of death.
“Dragon’s work,” Sigrun opined.
“Wonderful,” Emil groaned, remembering how useless he’d been in his sole encounter with a dragon thus far.
“Oh, it’ll be long gone,” Sigrun assured him. “But we might as well see if it left anything useful behind while we’re clearing the road.”
“And burying the unfortunates the dragon left behind,” Mikkel rumbled, prompting Sigrun and Emil to give him “Well, duh” looks, Emil actually having understood the mumbling for once.
*
Emil was rummaging through one of the wains while Lalli stared at it suspiciously when a chest popped open and an Elf hopped out. The shriek of surprise this prompted brought Sigrun and Mikkel running, which proved fortunate enough.
Reynir Half-Elven looked at the short, golden-haired Man-youth in perplexity. While Reynir spoke only Quenya, the Man-youth seemed to speak only what Reynir assumed was Sindarin, so neither could understand the other. Fortunately, the gargantuan Dwarven-Man who came over spoke Quenya very well, though his tidings were all bad.
Not only was the caravan destroyed and all the Dwarves dead, but they had been headed in completely the wrong direction, and the group who had rescued him were also bound in that direction, so there was no way he was going else but with them.
Sigrun was not happy about this at all.
*
Emil looked at Lalli in a way that the Hobbit Ranger couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, the young Man reluctantly said, “I have had a dream that has come to me every night since I was but a babe in arms. This dream is one of sorrow, loneliness and pain, and you have always featured in it, Lalli. In this dream, I am an Elf, as I have long yearned to be, while you are an Orc; but the two of us are still friends, despite that, while the world is utterly empty of both of our kinds. Is this phantasm not strange above all others?”
Tuuri was so stunned by this discourse that she had to be prodded into translating for Lalli, and translating Lalli’s response.
“Dreams are both weird and maddeningly perverse, as some are portents, while others are utterly meaningless. Were the Wizard here, he might be able to tell us which your dream is.”
Emil snorted. “Assuming he said anything at all.”
“Perhaps my silence has been from lack of need to say things when nothing need be said,” the Wizard said from behind Emil...
