PART TWO: Letters Abroad

PART TWO: Letters Abroad Sitting in the noon shade against the trunk of a large tree upon the hill, the elf maiden takes out some leaves of paper and a sturdy quill, tipping it with ink from a small pot freshly made by the local scholar. Kindly, he offered her his desk to write her letter, but she chooses this quiet spot instead, from where, tipping her head upwards, she can see the sanctuary across the river, sitting resplendent within a crown of green trees. It’s a clear bright day, with only the merest whispers of cloud that cast no shadows to spoil the view. ~~~~~~ My Beloved Lord, Hear my words that I push across the Great Sea, to seek you out upon the shores of that westernmost land, for they belong to no other. Of what beauties you behold I can only dream, yet know in my heart that you are surrounded by all that the Valar make of especial pleasure, all which is untouched by the shadow, unmarred by the creep of death and unfaded since its very moment of conception. I hope in this, that you rejoice. When you left I felt utterly in need to follow you, and the west was appealing, and my strength of feeling eclipsing, yet I linger in Middle Earth still...reduced by half of what I was and with no new path revealed to me beneath my feet, but a certainty that I am yet not fulfilled in my fate. It is all that keeps me rooted here, like the sapling of a great Elm, growing too strong for the wind to snap it and too secure in root to be heaved up by the trample of beast. And in comparison to that parent Elm, of an age so much smaller...still so young that naught wearies it...yet. My Lord, you were that great Elm, of remarkable stature, and magnificent age, nurturing all the young saplings beneath your boughs, until they were firm in root and bending in the wind. It was a great honour to have known you, as it is true of all Laiquendi elves gathered under your boughs before your leaving...and I can only hope that given time, we may adopt even the simplest of graces that remind us of our most Loved Lord, whose departure we shall ever lament. My heart shall never fully repair. Lord Clill tells us that despite our different backgrounds, that you shall meet us all one by one upon the shores of Aman when we make our journey west, yet, perhaps this is the reason that I linger still in Middle Earth, not because I would not wish that more than anything else, but because I live in fear that this shall not occur. I cannot help but dream only of an empty shore, with no-one to greet me and no return once I step to land, caught forever into a place of such undisputed beauty, where I shall know only my eternal death. ~~~~~~ Neatly, Tynuilos signs her name before folding the paper into three and writing the full name Lord Calenrandil Cudae (Epessë Seifor) on the front; returning to the scholar's shop to seal it with the Laiquendë seal before walking along the path that wanders through Celondim towards the docks. The smell of fresh fish lingers upon the air and the fisherman’s cat meows as she passes, perhaps in asking. She pauses to stroke the creature who returns her affection tenfold, twisting and turning its lithe body in eager gratification and tickling her fingertips with its fierce purr, until Lord Clill’s shadow announces his arrival. He is there on business and dutifully takes the letter from Tynuilos, to be delivered over the Belegaer as he has promised to all that wish it, smiling at her, parent to child. “Le hannon My Lord.” Tynuilos utters softly, half believing in the safe delivery of her letter, and half not. Although she does not accuse Lord Clill, she is plagued with the suspicion that he performs an erroneous duty to ease her pain, and after bowing gracefully, she turns to walk away without a single word more, solitary along the winding path that shall end at the forge. Her swords are in need of sharpening; there is much work to be done in the venting of her grief.