Elements

I know earth. I know it well. I knew it when it was
first made. I have walked upon it, sat upon it, slept
upon it. I have felt its life, for it does have a
life of its own. Earth breathes, moves, and sighs. I
understand what is meant by “living” rock. I have
felt it in its infinite forms. Sand and dirt. Grit
and pebble. Soil and rock. Mountains and plains. I
have climbed its high crags. I have clung to the edge
of the abyss.

I know air. I know it well. I knew it when it was
first made. I have breathed it, exhaled it, and
breathed it in again. I have felt its caress, felt
its whip, seen it tear things asunder, seen it sink
the ships upon the seas. I have smelled the seasons
in its breezes, and the warm fragrance of congenial
pipe smoke filling it in a comfortable sitting room.
I have been where air is. I have been where it is
not.

I know fire. I know it well. I knew it when it was
first made. I saw its first glowing in the darkness
of the void, mysterious and ephemeral. I have made
use of its light and heat. I have watched it dance
among the embers. Tool and weapon. Blessing and
curse. Pain and comfort. I have sat beside it. I
have been engulfed by it.

I know water. I know it well. I knew it when it was
first made. I have drunk it, washed with it, washed
in it, swum in it, waded through it, and ridden upon
it. With its partner, air, it supports life. I have
listened to it drip, trickle, burble and roar. It has
fallen upon me gently. It has lashed me as it poured
from the clouds. It has cloaked my enemies and myself
in its mists. I have delighted in the play of light
upon it. I was immersed in its icy blackness.

The grey curtain parted, and I beheld a land lying
fair before me.

“I do not belong here,” my thoughts whispered.

“Yet you are here for a time,” responded the thoughts
of one I know.

“This place is not for me nor my kindred. It is for
the Children. Why am I here?”

“All that I have been given to know is that you will
have need of having been here in a time that is to
come.”

I asked no more. No more was said.

It was in that moment of time that is between times,
between one day and the next, that I felt the earth
beneath me. I gasped in the icy air. Four of the
world’s hours passed as I listened to the messages of
the winds, felt the agonies of the earth. At the
stroke of morning’s fourth hour, I was gathered up and
borne away. Borne to where there was water to quench
my thirst and fire to warm my flesh. I knew much . .
. I knew that I knew little. I ventured forth. It is
my calling, my need and my deepest desire to aid in
the coming of the fourth age of this world.

I passed over plains and through forests. I passed
through mourning and through battle. I rode like the
winds themselves to end up here.

Now I sit staring into eyes clouded with doubt and
dread, set in a pale face smudged with soot and grime.

“I didn’t think it would end this way.” Peregrin
Took’s voice is small and plaintive.

I smile. I hope the comfort I wish to give him, the
love I have for him, shows in my smile, my eyes, and
my voice. “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here.
Death is just another path. One that we all must
take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back
. . .” I tell him, while in my thoughts I hear
someone telling me, “ . . . you will have need of
having been here.”