She was standing on the balcony of the Last Homely House, feeling the wind on her face and leaning on the railing. She was there when she wanted to think things through alone, since lately the Hall of Fire had been rather heated and full of crowd, sending the Elves of Vanimar the the fields of battle.
At least Elloen had been as her company there, and he had now gone to Lothlórien because of her errands, and then she had learned that he had went to Mirkwood alongside Danel. Meanwhile the war had been declared for the house and it was getting more obvious that she should stay within the Valley. The box with the brooch of Fëaráto was still within her room, waiting whether lord Anglachelm would take it or not. ”Tûr has been rather busy lately with his restless dreams”, she thought, ”and I will not bother him with such matters, though of whether our friends in Mirkwood are in his thoughts as well or not I am quite sure. After all, is he not the Tûr? Is his love not for all of us equally? I will wait, but waiting is all I can do these days”.
At least Telpenaro had been there for her for a short time. It surely delighted her, for both Elloen and Telpenaro were dear sires for her. Elloen was her ”brother”, of course, but Telpenaro on the other hand was her babysitter. Her parents Fëamiril and Linnen had known him for a long time, and trusted him with a lot of things. Though some in Lórien were suprised or amused by it – a seasoned warrior, guard and a warden of Nargothrond, playing with a tiny elfling called Elvealin and feeding her apple sauce? The silly rumours said that he wanted to retire from his tasks of a warden after all. But that was not the case.
Elvealin grew up with Telpenaro as a familiar face besides her parents and she always enjoyed the lessons and the silly games that he had invented for her. When she had grown to her full stature, she asked him if he actually wanted to get married and get children of his own, because he would make a fine father. ”I have learned a lot about it with you, Elvealin, but alas, that is not the way of a warrior. Perhaps I can give it a thought if I get a chance to sail across the sea to Aman. And I do mean if rather than when”, he answered with a smile, but grimly. After that his visits became fewer, but he still remained as the friend of the whole family. And now he had gone again, reminding of that morning.
And what of the rest of the house of Vanimar, then? Many of those she called her friends on her behalf had gone to the battle as well. She looked at the colours of the sunset with thoughtful eyes and when she was deep in thoughts, her fingers touched her beloved harp lightly, making it sound like a wind chime. ”I have already made a song for Varda, perhaps Manwë should get his as well”, she thought. Suddenly an idea arose to her mind. ”Lady Mistë!”, she thought. ”Of course, a harp is happier when she does not have to sing alone”, and went to look for the Harps with a heart less heavy.
