Parchment to Burn - 1

I find my mind clouded more and more of late. It feels like I have so many thoughts and feelings calmouring for attention that I know not which way to turn, or which I should contemplate. Perhaps, then, as was suggested I should give them some relief in writing. None may ever read these pages for I intend to burn them upon completion. Too long have I kept my thoughts and feelings within, too long have I chosen to share neither with those around me and I will not allow them to come to light now. What, then, to write? Of times past or times present? Both? Neither? My turmoil runs and swirls like ink in oil, knowing not which direction to take, and yet take one I must. A decision must be reached. A conclusion. Darnomir. Beloved Darnomir. When first we met, I was passing through Bree. Most of my memories of that town make me shudder with revulsion. It is so narrow, so dark. The tall, tightly packed buildings give it an enclosed feel that I find deeply oppressive and the violence I witnessed between the Men of that place brings me nausea even now. That was my second encounter with the race of Man, but my first had been so long ago. They had saved me then, although it had not felt like it at the time. These Men of Bree-land though were so different, so angry and hostile. How I disliked them and their uncouth ways, their insistance upon standing as close to me as they could, never respecting my wish to have some space between myself and the next. If I backed away, they would follow until it seemed like they were wargs baying at my heels. Yet into this strode Darnomir. Tall and fair, for all his dark clothing and hair. He was such an angry man back then, confused and quick-tempered, yet he never turned those feelings upon me: my presence soothed him, he once said, calming his troubled mind and hostile tendancies. Rather, he took to standing nearby, warning others to keep their distance with little more than a dark look. In time, he began to seat himself in my presence, each day inching just that little bit closer until eventually he would sit mere inches from my side. Looking back now, I wonder if he thought me a scared deer to tame: working so long and so hard on making me accustomed to his presence that he may finally come close without me taking flight. He became my first true friend amongst Men and later, much later, he became my love. I know not when I finally realised the depth of my feelings for him. I think, rather, that they grew without my notice until I could ignore them no longer and fight them though I might, I was unable to merely brush them aside. His confession of love for me was, to say the least, quite stunning. I did not understand then, any more than I do now, why anyone might come to think of me in such terms. Even then, we both struggled with the notion. A Man and an Elf? It would end in tragedy, this we both knew. The years would take him from me. He would pass beyond the veil into a place that I could not follow and I would be left alone to mourn his passing in perpetuity. Perhaps that truth was what finally led me to confess my feelings for him. I would lose him one way or another. Our time together, however, had to mean something did it not? So did we agree to open our hearts to one another, with eyes uncovered to how our romance would end With that surrender to emotion came new challenges. As Tûr of an elven house, small and insignificant as it may be, I could not risk others finding out of my love for a mortal lest those under my care be looked upon unfavourably by the other Houses. Not even those who entrusted themselves to me could be allowed knowledge of such a thing lest they lose faith in my judgement. For him came the challenge of being looked upon with fear, jealousy, distrust and even sometimes loathing by his fellow Men for his desire to be with me. Underlying all of this was the knowledge that we would one day part ways and never again find comfort in the presence of the other. It was hardest on him, I fear, for I had told him of my peoples customs and he knew that to wed me would mean consigning me to an eternity alone. In truth, I would have happily embraced that fate if only so I could know that one moment of bliss that comes from being in the arms of the one you love, but he would not damn me, as he saw it, to such a life. Instead, our love remained secret, unconsumated and he had me swear an oath that after he was gone I would find another to give my heart and life to in the way he desired but could not have for himself. He sacrificed so much of himself just to remain with me. He endured so much in the name of his love for an elf. As we knew it would our happiness, albeit tainted by the prejudice of others, came to an end. He had travelled east some months prior, for what reason I do not recall, but as he travelled wesrward once more to return to my side, he was beset by bandits and slain on his way through Bree-land. Weeks passed before the news reached me and a part of me wishes that it never had. He is gone now, his spirit fled beyond the parting of the veil to what end I know not, but no more shall I see his smile, nor feel the warmth of his hand upon my shoulder. No more shall I hear his voice, his laughter in the wind or smell musky scent. He is gone and how my heart yearns for him!