Eamon's initial surprise at Elrond's offer quickly morphed into a deep sense of gratitude, his youthful face softening with appreciation. However, this warmth was soon overshadowed by a wave of doubt and humility. His brow furrowed, and his gaze turned solemn as he looked intently at the ancient being before him.
"Train me...?" he echoed, the words carrying a note of disbelief. "But... why would you do that? I am a stranger to you. I have done nothing to earn such a profound offer. In fact," he hesitated, a shadow of his lost memories clouding his eyes, "I don't even know myself that much. Why would you invest your time and effort in someone like me?"
Elrond's gaze remained fixed on Eamon, his luminous blue eyes seeming to dim slightly, losing some of their earlier warmth. A solemn tone entered his voice, replacing the gentle resonance of moments before. "That is because, boy," he stated, his words carrying a weight that belied their simplicity, "I am not offering my help freely."
Eamon's eyes widened in shock, his earlier gratitude dissolving into confusion and a hint of alarm. "But..." he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "What... what could I possibly offer? I have nothing. No possessions, no skills that I can recall... just emptiness." He looked at Elrond, a desperate plea for understanding in his bewildered gaze. "Just what is it that you want from me?"
"What I want from you, you ask?" Elrond echoed, his voice now resonating with a majestic authority that seemed to fill the stone chamber. The very air around him seemed to thicken, as if an unseen weight had settled upon the room. "It is simple, really, young Eamon. You will help me vanquish the Northern Heralds."
Eamon stood dumbfounded, his mind reeling from Elrond's unexpected demand. "The Northern Heralds?" he stammered, his voice laced with disbelief and a dawning horror. "But... what can we possibly do? What can I do? They... they were the ones who destroyed my village." A tremor ran through him, and his voice grew hesitant. "I don't think I want to..."
Before he could fully articulate his reluctance, Elrond's voice cut through his words, sharp and probing. "Boy," he stated, his intense gaze seeming to bore into Eamon's very being, "you have forgotten much of yourself, yet the memory of the Heralds remains vivid. Have you ever stopped to consider why that is? Has that thought never crossed your mind?"
Eamon stared at Elrond, a mixture of shock, burgeoning curiosity, and a dawning sense of awe washing over him. Elrond continued, his voice resonating with an undeniable certainty, "It is because your very being despises them, boy. It is because your Animus yearns to annihilate them. They were the catalyst, the cruel hand that plunged you into the abyss, forcing your Animus to awaken in a desperate struggle for survival."
A flicker of understanding, tinged with a deep-seated confusion, crossed Eamon's features as he absorbed Elrond's words. He looked at the old man, a newfound intensity in his gaze. "Yes," he admitted, a low growl rumbling in his chest.
"There is nothing more I would like than to see the Heralds utterly destroyed. But..." his voice dropped, the fire in his eyes dimming with a sense of despair, "...there's nothing we can do. They wield the very power of this world. It's a delusion to think we could ever defeat them."
Elrond looked at Eamon, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He nodded slowly, a knowing glint in his ancient eyes. "You are right, young one," he conceded, his voice laced with amusement. "It is utterly delusional to think that we alone could stand against them.
But..." a subtle grin spread across his lips, hinting at secrets yet untold, "...who said we would be doing this alone, boy? We simply need to join another faction."
Eamon's brow furrowed in confusion. "Another faction?" he repeated, the words hanging in the air, laced with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. He looked at Elrond, seeking clarification in the depths of his wise, blue eyes. "What other faction could possibly stand against the Northern Heralds? And why would they accept someone like me?"
Elrond sighed softly, a hint of weariness in the gesture as he lowered his head slightly. "I see you know nothing of the world beyond your suffering, boy," he murmured, his voice carrying a note of pity. Then, he straightened, his gaze meeting Eamon's with renewed intensity. "There are three great factions that hold sway over this world: the Northern Heralds, the Emerald Tide, and the Astral Dynasty."
Eamon's eyes widened in surprise, his confusion deepening. "I... I had no idea," he admitted, his voice filled with a sense of being utterly ignorant of the world around him. "I only knew the Heralds... their cruelty was all that marked my memory."
"Of course," Elrond said in a sober tone, his gaze unwavering. "That knowledge shouldn't be your primary concern right now. If any of the Factions were to accept someone as… untrained as you are, boy, you would likely find yourself in a position of servitude. No," he stated firmly, "first, you will have to train. You must possess strength that earns respect, not invites exploitation."
"Train?" Eamon echoed, his voice reflecting a mixture of eagerness and the urgency of his situation. "Where do I train? How do I train? And... when do we begin?"
Elrond smiled, a hint of warmth returning to his ancient eyes as he observed Eamon's eager response. He nodded slowly, as if pleased by the youth's burgeoning enthusiasm.
Then, with a subtle gesture, he pointed to a section of the stone chamber to his right. "There, young Eamon," he stated, his voice regaining some of its earlier gentle authority. "You will begin your training there."
Following the direction of the old man's gaze, Eamon turned his head. Only now, amidst the dim light and the weight of their conversation, did he truly notice that a portion of the vast stone chamber seemed distinct —a sanctuary within the larger space.
Gazing at the sanctuary, Eamon felt a sense of awe mixed with unease. Its solemn majesty seemed to press down on him, a silent testament to powers and histories he could only begin to imagine.