This diary is dated for the previous evening.

I did not think my heart could yet feel the same love that it did once before.

If one had told me those years ago that Amarthior would become naught but a fleeting memory, I doubt I would have believed them. Perhaps it is the wine of Eryn Galen that muddles my thoughts, or perhaps it is truly the lingering pounding of my heart at the thought of a gentle touch across my cheek. 

  Cedmon crafted me a weapon. He claims he is not as talented as the smiths of Imladris, but I think that is just his humility. It is one of the finest swords I have the pleasure to wield; its weight is perfectly balanced, and the blade is at just the length to feel like an extension of my arm. My favorite detail, although I know he did this with intentionality, are the motifs of our home carved into it. It was done with such detail that I would not have been able to distinguish the work from the smiths of Imladris, and yet a gift such as this would mean next to nothing if it were from anyone but him.

 He tells me the blade is named Hearthkeeper, and I wish I had the clarity to ask him from where the weapon had derived its name; for now, I can make my own guesses, but I shall ask him whence next I have the chance. I was so touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift that I could hardly make oral my own thanks, much less ask him questions about the nominal title 'twas given.

(It is a beautiful blade, indeed. Image source here.)

 Just as I was reeling from the shock and gratitude of such a gift, he asked me a question that made my heart jump into my throat. Although I had been to his home in Bree-land several times now, I had not yet considered staying with him as a permanent arrangement. Seeing as we are, by definition, courting, I thought it would be inappropriate. Yet, the earnest manner in which he asked, holding my hand in his own, caught me to lose my breath for brief seconds. When I finally recollected my composure, I told him yes. Granted, he has to purchase another bed, for there are some things I will not give in on. 

I did not say this aloud, nor do I think I ever will, but I have not ever been so touched or felt so loved appreciated as I do in the way that Cedmon cares for me. I hope to return the favor, but I fear my talents do not lie in smithing or crafting - though it is not from a lack of trying. He has mentioned before that he likes it when I relax, and when I sing... so maybe after a few more bottles of wine, I can regale him with a story that Laerorsel and I once wrote in our younger days.