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He had found it in the forest: cool, and perfectly round. In his hands, it weighed close to nothing, lighter even than the feather of a swan. It was a smooth shade of silver that glinted dimly in the light. It was soothing, and the object filled his mind with relaxing thoughts…

He closed his eyes.

He saw a pool of calm, unmoving water. The sky above was a dull grey, but somehow it was comforting. The pool below was the same colour, if slightly darker. The boy walked towards the water, and soon the liquid enveloped him. It was cold, and icy. It was if he were dancing in a forest of close frost-coated pines. Then a wind picked up. As he slowly floated gracefully in a spiral, he rose once again to the surface, Calmly, his head emerged and he drew the chilled air into his lungs.

He could hear singing, an echoing, mournful song. It’s saddening notes filled the air with moisture. The sky began to cry, tears falling lightly. The boy found it pleasant. He smiled to the sky, and opened his mouth to catch the teardrops.

The pool that had once been a flawless mirror of the sky was suddenly interrupted: the drops from above caused it to ripple. The mirror was shattered; the boy walked over to the pool and bent over slowly. He gazed at himself, watching his small, white face as the ripples distorted it. A sudden emptiness filled him. He felt wrought with despair. He began to cry himself, his own tears falling into the pool.

The grey long grass that surrounded the pool, and stretched endlessly in each direction began to sway, as the wind increased. It was disturbingly tranquil. Grey waves seemed to run across the land, and the small boy thought he could hear laughing. The laughing was sweet, but in the boy’s mind it was mocking and horrid to his ears. They were mocking him.

His cheeks went pink and blotchy, and he cried relentlessly.

The boy felt tied to the earth, and as long as it cried, he cried. His heart was heaving within his little ribcage. The humans often misused the earth, and the little boy cried for the earth, and the earth cried for him. He felt as if he had a bond with the earth.

He felt as if the grass were his hair, and the trees his sturdy legs. The lakes his fallen tears and the clouds his troubled mind. The moon his right eye, and the sun his left: one side of his perception filled with darkness and the other with light. For the world still had beings of good and light upon it.

The grey clouds above him parted, and the darkness of the night took a hold of him. Pain suddenly wrenched at his heart, and threatened to tear it apart. Darkness covered the land. The small boy wailed helplessly. His cries came straight from his heart; the core of the earth.

Then the crescent moon rose over the horizon. It bathed the plains in an intimidating, but soft off-white light. The boy ceased crying, but his eyes were downcast and behind them swirled dark storm clouds.

Lightning flashed in the distance. It’s light lit up the boy’s face and for a fleeting moment he looked like a ghost. The wind intensified until it was a wretched howling. It pushed back the jet-black hair of the little boy, and his pointed ears were revealed.

His bond with the earth was not false – for he was an Elf!

The laughing continued on almost muted by the angry wind. The boy’s emotions were mixed: anger, grief and uncertainty. The winds raged, the sky wept, and the grass moved in waves. All were the result of the boy’s feelings.

The laughing increased, and all other noises – the pitter-patter of rain on the water, the swish of the grass, and the call of the wind – died down. The boy’s eyes opened, and he looked up at those who approached. Two Elves wandered towards him, laughing. Their smiles were joyous; their twin blue eyes gleamed. One of the elves had fair, golden hair, and the other had white, glowing hair.

The elven-lady with the golden hair said, “Édan! Come, and cry no longer – now is the time for merriment. Then, you shall rest your weary head upon your familiar blankets.” Her voice was as sweet as golden nectar.

She held out her hand for him to take. He sat motionless, and then reluctantly rose.

The long grass shifted as he moved past it.

He stopped, and eyed it for a second. His back was all the two lady-Elves behind him could see.

Édan looked cautiously at the spherical, silver object in his right hand. He cocked his head – wondering what he should do with it, and then carefully placed the dragon egg in his pocket.

He turned, smiling, and took his mother’s hand.

Édan ‘Earth-bond’ of Elvendell, took his mother’s hand.