Oh, Diary! You will never guess who finally came back to our weekly gatherings in the Hall of Fire! It is my dear friend Mirineth, she whose presence used to be indispensible at these gatherings, she who went around to every new-comer and called them brother or sister, and made them feel welcome. She also introduced me to some warriors, one of whom always pestered her to dance, saying that he could support her in such a way that none would notice her wound... yes, Diary, it was Mirineth who introduced me to my one darling, my Themodir.
It has really been almost a full year. It has really been that long since we were married in haste by our Tûr, on the pathway to hir Elrond's home, as my love lay dying. In that time, ever so much has happened. Elloen unveiled two new canvases, very like his prior portraits of Tûr and of Caun Danel. Only one was of my strong right hand, ancalimë imbi eleni, my equally dear friend Norliriel, brightest among the stars of the Noldor... and the other was of Themodir himself.
Elloen had a lovely little party at his home, just down the road from me and from Norlië. There was wine -- luckily! -- and seafood-herb rolls with cheese alongside, and for dessert one of hir Telpenaro's cakes -- decorated with spring petals and mixed throughout with fruits. Truly Telpenaro is a master artist too, in his way.
Lord Tindir and Lady Himwen, and bright young Earcalie, also of the Hammer, were present. I brought Rámarille, for I deemed I might need some comfort, and she is a good bird for that. Norlië came, of course, and Caun Danel graced us with her visit, and the new Pillar recruit Silmacale was there also -- though in his typical way, he was very quiet and spoke only when directly addressed.
First Elloen unveiled the portrait of Norlië, beside a stream and among blue and white flowers, wearing a bluish-white sleeveless dress with a long veil draped from her shoulders. And he rendered masterfully the detail I had asked for -- she held in both hands a bottle of the antidote, which I requested be called "Norliriel's Fire," the shining red liquid that we slaved over long and hard -- O let her never take such a risk again! -- and that we know cures the poison we called Daegûr, that which took the strength and life of my darling. In working alongside me to create this, Norlië has helped ensure that none other will share Themodir's grotesquely painful fate. Yes, I read her report... In the portrait, she has her hair partly up, in her usual practical updo, but also partly streaming about her shoulders. She looks off to the side, as if waiting for some thing, or some one -- her own lost love? She is radiant, but also visibly strong, more so than I deem she credits herself. I was asked where I thought the portrait should hang, for it was offered to me. I could look upon such a masterwork all day, but I said that would be greedy of me, and I thought it would be most fitting to hang the canvas in the Houses of Healing -- for after all, she kept my darling alive long enough for Tûr to perform our hasty marriage, and she worked so very hard on our antidote project. She deserves a place of honour among healers.
Then, then, Diary, the cloth fell aside from Themodir's portrait. Oh! Every last inch of my darling, arrayed in his hauberk and war-gear, is rendered as he wanted to be seen: his sparkling eyes, his strong jaw with the little cleft, his broad shoulders, the pure silver of his hair -- Norlië called it "spun mithril" -- and a gentle smile of reassurance, which Elloen said he had put there purposefully. Every one said it was as if he would speak, or step out of the frame and dance with me again. He is painted with a goblet of the red wine he preferred -- "red as blood," he used to call it -- and hir Tindir said he was ever surprised that the glass in the portrait did not empty. O, my ray of light! You will never now be forgotten. Elloen's genius has ensured you will live on always. And the ring is on your finger where I placed it.
I was asked also where I would have this canvas hung. I would so much have loved to hang it in my own humble quarters, but then I could hardly leave the house, desiring instead to sit with the best possible image of him whom I shall always love. No -- when all is ready in the Hammer kinhall, I said, not without regret, that it ought to go there. For he was a warrior, to the last. He knew, Diary, he knew from that book of star-lore that he would be killed or mortally wounded in the Hthaeglir, and yet he went, for the protection of his friends and comrades in arms. So I said that I would have it in my own house when possible, but only until they had made a place for it in the hall of the Hammers, to enshrine the greatest warrior I have known, these many ages. I said I hoped it would inspire the new recruits, as well as those who knew him, and indeed Earcalië was kind enough to say she found it inspiring. I deem Losgael will feel similarly.
We toasted the artist and each of the subjects, led in this endeavour by hir Tindir. I was frankly glad of the wine, that helped me feel just that slight hair's-breadth of numbness that kept me from weeping like a baby.
Diary, how very odd -- Elloen means to paint me next, with Rámarille beside me. Well, I guess I had better sit for this portrait in my Houses robes and shoulders, since this will be after all an official record. But who knows what this humble genius has in mind? I suppose I will soon find out.
Caun Danel has said that very soon, there will be a Gates of Summer celebration. I have such mixed feelings about this, as well you may imagine. It ushers in the brightest and most colourful season, the warmest and most joyful, and yet for me -- well, enough has been said in these pages about the tragedy. Only an eyeblink ago, he still breathed! I will just have to get through these somehow, as I was brave -- I hope! -- through tonight's unveiling. And then the stars will move on, and things will continue just as they ought, I suppose.
O Miri! I longed to see you when all of the terrible things were happening, yet it is no less joyous to me to see you now, as it were mere moments later.
O my one love, my darling, my ray of silver light! If you could but see yourself painted so grandly by Elloen, you will know that never, ever, can you be forgotten on these shores. Perhaps your portrait will even lift the melancholy spirits of our poor Tûr, to see his boyhood friend looking fit and strong once again. I do hope it is so. If only you could see what a handsome and dashing figure you cut -- if only you could see yourself as I first did... really quite recently, yet also seemingly before the Sun and Moon took light... O my darling one!
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