Crossed Paths by Flora-lass  

Crossed Paths

Even as Voronwë showed Tuor the signs of the dragon's rampage, they heard cries of despair, and a Man all in black emerged from the trees. They saw years of woe etched on his face, as he gazed in dismay at the defilement of Ivrin. His footsteps slowed, and with a final cry he sank to the ground.

Tuor and Voronwë hastened to where he sat; the Man's hand went to his sword, but he accepted their assurances of goodwill. 

‘You are beyond weary, friend,’ said Voronwë, pushing his hair aside and looking at him intently. ‘And full of grief. If you would come with us, we will find a place where you may rest awhile. Winter is upon us, and it is cold for mortals to be alone.’

‘How long is it since you ate, or slept?’ asked Tuor, recognising one in a state far worse than his own.

The Man shook his head. ‘I know not,’ he muttered, ‘and it does not matter. All that matters is that I find them.‘ He scrambled to his feet, staring around in confusion. ‘I found healing here, once,’ he continued. ‘But my healer is dead, and many others besides. There is nothing here now that could bring me ease.’

‘Where are you bound?’ Tuor asked, offering a steadying hand. ‘Do you know the way?’

The Man recoiled. ‘Do not hinder me,’ he said. ‘For I am cursed, and would not taint you. I am going home, if my Doom allows - but I do not know if my home is still there…’ And without another word, he turned, and stumbled away.

After a moment's thought, Voronwë followed, and pressed upon him as much of their precious store of waybread as could be spared. The Man's face twisted, as if with a painful memory, and he seemed to blink back tears. He nodded his thanks, and departed.

Sadly, Voronwë made his way back to Tuor. ‘He bears a heavy burden,’ he said. ‘I wonder what can have befallen?'

‘I wish he had stayed longer,’ said Tuor. ‘My heart aches for him. He reminded me of someone, though I cannot remember who.’

‘That is strange,’ Voronwë answered, ‘for he somehow reminded me of you, for all he appears as one of the Noldor, at first glance. I pray I never see you so distressed. Come, let us seek shelter from this evil wind.’

Chapter End Notes

(Written using the prompt sets 'grief, footsteps, years, slow' and 'tears, home, still, allow'.)