~Anarya, Lairë 38~
Oh, there really is nothing quite like a home-coming. When I at last passed through the verdant pastures of the periannath and into the land of graceful blossoming trees, I knew I was home at last. I could hear the lull of the sea not too far off, the branches drooped lower to shake hands with me, and the shore wind rushed through the grass to hasten me further yet.
Aeriaeth and I saw many more sites and especially ruins but I had no time to write about them as hir Gwaedir was pushing us along at a rapid pace. We thought taking frequent breaks would be good for him as he is quite older than us, but age has not weathered his physical abilities, only his mood it seems.
I would have written again when we reached the land of the periannath, but my journal somehow went missing. Of course, later I found it had merely fallen to the bottom of my pack. Anyhow, I was preoccupied with showing the green fields to Aeriaeth who was very amazed. The smell of good cooking abounded everywhere we went and she was much intrigued. I believe she wanted to see one of the periannath, but it was not prudent for they are curious folk and would no doubt seek us out if they glimpsed our tall figures. My mother is like Aeriaeth, curious about the small folk. My new friend reminds me of her very often and it makes me glad that I am on the road home. It seems that the closer I approach the place of my birth, I realize how much I have missed it. I had never been away from home or family long before, so I knew not what coming home must feel like. Yet now I do, and I think everyone should experience this joy at least once. At the same time, I feel quite sad for those who have no home to which they can return and therefore cannot enjoy the warmth of a home-coming.
On the road to Duillond, we also found hiril Lilleduil. Or rather, she found us. And as she traveled with us, hir Gwaedir seemed to have disappeared. It would have been nice if he stuck with us…after all what is the point of a traveling group if not to do it together? He must have rushed off to meet the friend he supposedly has in the area. Anyhow, his off-putting presence would have been welcome when an odd ellon stopped us upon a bridge close to Duillond. He had a hood over and around his face so that we could not see him. He gave neither information nor name and merely told us to be on our way. But as we turned down the path, he began to follow us! My, did I think it strange. I was sure he was some unsavory character and I urged the others to gallop to the safety of Duillond. But he followed us even there! However, he did no physical harm to us, though he may have done injury with his words. He walked up to the stablemaster and immediately began whispering to him while sneering in our direction. Well! I still burn in anger at the thought of it. I immediately walked up to him and told him he should say what he thought plainly instead of in secret. After all, it provokes suspicion.
His rudeness even garnered the attention of other Duillond inhabitants. There were two friendly-looking ellith, who introduced themselves as Lacarwen and Falthariel. Their friendliness seemed to put off the rude ellon and he went away soon enough, but he still kept lingering and walking back and forth in our vicinity. The two ellith told Aeriaeth and I to pay him no mind and instead turned our attention to happier things. They even helped me distribute all the letters and packages I had brought with me from Imladris. How very strong they both were!
I remember now why I liked the elves of Ered Luin so much. The vivacity and passion of the sea flows within them and they like to come upon you in welcome as the sea foam washes upon your feet on the shore. The elves of Imladris were too different from me. I thought them so very noble in their fancy dress, fine wines in the great Hall of Fire, impressive libraries with walls full of volumes…but they lacked some sort of conviction. So little moved them. Time moved too slowly. They lingered, they pondered. But here, the tide of the sea flows in the veins of the elves and they are busy. The ships are always pulling out with daybreak and the great strength and busyness of the elves upon them. The gulls are always crying, swirling above our heads. And the fishermen are always combing the sea for their catches each day. Nothing is still, here. Even at night, the waves knock against our homes and lull us to dreams and rest. I can hear it even now as I write by candlelight.
I am so glad to be home once again!
