He understood now that perhaps he had been walking alone for too long – ever since leaving his homeland, spending years on the road on his own had made him a suspicious one. He questioned everyone’s motives, and slowly began ceasing to believe in those that do ‘Good’ just for its own sake.
Strangely enough, he usually ended up doing exactly that – his long years had shown him a lot, and even though Caramir felt he had not yet found a path to thread, he veered towards ‘helping others’ most often than not – his natural elven aloofness sometimes made it hard to approach them, but he always found himself trying, usually harder than he expected.
Levoca had crawled under his skin, perhaps due to the simple nature of the place, or maybe something was rubbing off from the others he walked with – most of them he still could not really read – they were an improbable bunch, thrown together without really knowing much about each other, as if they simply walked together ‘because’, or was it the ‘doing good’ thing all over again? Regardless of how he felt about Morti’s honest concern, or Karl’s apparent detachment, he could not deny that walking in the company of others after so many years had an impact on him – sometimes he enjoyed simply standing there in silence, listening to the young souls exchanging their points of view on others and on the world.
But Levoca… It was a simple place, not unlike many others across the world, made of simple people (as simple as humans can ever be – he had learned things are never straightforward) with honest, headlong concerns. Why was it then that it mattered so much to him? Caramir had travelled many times through such places, often seeing them as no more than a temporary stop spot where he could find supplies, or work. Perhaps that had been his mistake all along – looking for a greater picture away from the common daily life, when something so small like this village, could need so much. He smiled – having always been proud of paying attention to details, it seemed he might have overseen those in front of his face. Would it give his life more meaning, if he would make a difference for Levoca, Mother Molvor, Olav, Kostya’s widow?
He decided to give it a try – if there was one thing elves had oodles of, was time – spending whatever time with the small settlement to make sure they would be ‘well on their way’ would mean nothing but a speck of time in his life. Six months, one year, until he felt they did not need him anymore – perhaps it was selfishness that moved the elf instead of the care for the inhabitants? At least he would find out.