After 3 months, Elrond awakens, confused. He comes outside and at the breath of fresh air, it all comes back to him clear. The bones. The wish. The staff. The word.
The word.
SLEN
It was embeded into his memory, as though he spent his life meditating on the word. A body, a vessel. A puppet a jar of the soul. Thats what he needed, I needed to give my lord a body.
My lord? No. That beast. Daedra. The spirit that promised life, power.
Unslaad suleyk. Immesureable power. His master.
SLEN
The word fills his very being, he looks at his hand. Completely healed. Something felt... odd... Apon removing his glove he saw the word. Starting at the wrist and extending to about the middle of the palm was written, ever so crudely, Slen.
He realized now Mirkrilaar's wish. And how he planned to regenerate himself.
I am a tool. A plow. These bones were seeds. Mirkilaar was the crop. At harvest the worker gets his pay.
He looked up now, midday. And shouted unto the heavens,
"Zu'u fen bo pah lok do taazokaan! Drun pah hin qethhe ahrk vokrii hin lot kos! Vos zu'u kos fin haal wah siiv hin SLEN!"
And he followed the now again buzzing gyro back to keizaal. Bromjunaar.