[piosenniel]

Endamir squatted down beside the little blaze and turned the pot of water near the base of it. It was near to boiling. He and Lómwë had fallen into a comfortable silence as they readied the smaller pot with tea leaves waiting to be steeped in the water they were heating. They’d also gathered a number of fair sized stones to lay about their fire in a ring, though there were really not that many trees about nor bushes that they need worry about them catching fire. When the water was done, they poured it over the leaves and fitted a thin, flat rock over the top of the smaller kettle to keep the heat in.

Lómwë and he then gathered a few stout branches to make a sort of haphazard drying rack over which they could throw their clothes and blankets to dry. They hunkered down near the fire, each of them taking turns to flip the blankets and clothing to dry on both sides.

A mug of tea in hand, Endamir leaned back against his pack and watched the spatks fly up like little sprites into the darkening sky. The wood crackled and popped, and hissed at times, sending up small clouds of steam when the flames reached a pocket of moisture.

‘My brother and I also traveled after the lands fell beneath the sea,’ he said, watching the fire’s flames dance along the wood. He eased himself into a more comfortable position, picking up the conversation where it last had ended.’ We were lucky, I think, to have each other for company. Many of those we met along the way had no inkling really of the great battles fought on the western parts of Middle-earth. We, at least, could remind each other of what had been done and how we might have chosen differently . . . and how in the end the actions done served for the good of all.

‘The world seemed much brighter to us then . . . or rather I should say, ‘to me’. I suppose it was that the Dark One had been vanquished and the bright light of the Valar had blazed gloriously in its conquest. The lands we traveled into were new to us and fresh. Orëmir found a new interest as we met new folk along the way. He was attracted to the healing arts. And I can understand why. He told me once he’d seen so much of death and pain and brought about so much of it himself, that he felt that even the smallest relief he could bring to someone would be a little reflection of the light the Valar brought back to this part of the world.

‘It was among men, especially, that he delved into the lore of herbs and their combinations. And many the old wisewoman there was who took the eager Elf beneath her wizened hand and showed him the ways of her tribe's local plants. It was there, too, that I began to listen to the tales men told of the great happenings and the small in their little domains. What they knew of the Elves, of each other, of the Blessed Lands . . . the stories they wove to pass their knowledge down from parent to child. It was mostly oral, their passing of tradition and belief, but sometimes, in some of the older realms there were the few scraps of written history that were proudly presented and carefully copied by me.

‘That was a good time, my brother and I. Moving from place to place. There were always new things new peoples to look to. He sipped his tea and sighed quietly. ‘The new kept the old at bay . . .’

Endamir shook his head considering what he might say next. ‘It was those long years in Imladris, really, that let those old remembrances come creeping back. Our kin there were kind enough. I wanted for nothing. And the Great Library there . . . what a treasure house! But there was too much time for thinking about things that I had done in my early years. Too much time to turn inward and reflect on ill chosen actions. Now it seemed as I thought on it more that often our actions did not always serve for the good of all, but sometimes for our own selfish needs.’

He turned his gaze from the fire to Lómwë’s face. ‘Is that how it was with you? Even in a place of great beauty, too much time remembering ghosts and trying to reconcile our arrogance with its outcomes?’