Ithilwë

Standing at the very edge of the docks, he takes a deep breath. Thousands of names run through his mind as he walks further and further towards the bobbing white ship that will spirit him to safer shores, but only one stands out among the rest. Ithilwe. Calandil. The light of my life; my moon among the stars. Leaving behind his husband is the hardest thing that he has ever had to do--harder than losing his parents, his sister, his kin.

The fire crackled loudly in the peaceful night. From what Arrvelas could tell, everyone else had gone off to rest for the night. There was no more chatter, no more sounds of footsteps. Only the fire.

He pulled the tattered cloak a little tighter around him as he continued to trudge through the rain drenched terrain."Cursed land..." He muttered under his breath, looking over to his left to see the branch of the Greyflood that bent its way into the fell lands of Dunland. Ioranir paused briefly to look back over his shoulder. The fog from the Dunbog still gracing itself eerily upon the face of the marshes therein.

I dreamed of shining towers and bright blue skies. I dreamed of the warm sun and the sound of songbirds. I dreamed of flowers in the air and cobble stoned streets. I dreamed of grand halls and flying banners.

“Ithil.” 

They finally found a place to rest. Within one of the ruined structures within Carn Dum, the two were huddled around a small fire, draped in their traveling cloaks. 

“Ye know, for a Elf-Warrior in a shoddy piece of plate, yer not too bad, laddie.” 

Gondolin, First Age: 450

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A small, silver haired elf, sits quietly in one corner of a great hall. His back against a marble column and his legs folded in a comfortable manner. A curious thing, for this scene opposed the tone of the festivities that were occurring around him.

In a peaceful glade in the woods, there is a little wooden house. And in that little wooden house there is a dim room. And in that dim room is a stone hearth. And in that stone hearth there is nothing. Nothing but a cold emptiness and lonely space. In front of that nothingness sits... a man? Or perhaps an elf if one was to take a closer look. That one lone figure sits still, eyes open but boring into the empty hearth. 

“Did you love him?”

“I do love him.”

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