A letter inside an unmarked envelope once sealed with Landrem the Younger’s personal seal—the Tengwar letters ʟ⋅ɴᴅ⋅ʀ⋅ᴍ beneath a fish naiant. The author’s hand is crisp and elegant if small and understated, reminiscent of a careful scribe’s.
Maedis, my old friend,
I am sorry I could not see you this week; it is busy in the Soldier’s Tier, as you well know. There were the usual smaller infractions, by our men and civilians both. More pressingly, twenty-four men have been condemned to die this month. The chain of my office grows heavier each year, but it is a worthy burden as I so often say. You know this, so I will keep from prattling on about it. As always, I do what I must in the name of the law.
Each evening, I wish you were here with me, or that I were there with you, but life always seems to wish us two apart after too short a time. Alas that the Gift of Men and the demands of our work leave little time for precious company! My feminal heart is ever aching for more. Our hours together pass by far too quickly for my liking, though I suppose it is my fondness of that time and of you which makes it pass so much quicker. I could not bear this life without those times, truly. Read this that I’ve written! I grow overly sentimental thinking on your absence. This talk is unbecoming of me, isn’t it? I will shut up the mawkish speech at once.
I’ve thought again on what you said to me about returning to the Halls of Lore to study law. I have thought on the possibility of pursuing a position in the Halls of Law as well, though, I am untested. The taste of these paths I have savored awhile, yet their sweetness is always cut by the bitterness of dread. It fills me with fear to consider how my life would be changed. I am so far removed from my years in those vestments that I am afraid I will not be able to properly return. I will be too old and too behind in my studies. My wealth is far too small to pay for my attendance in full, and the table of my memory has long since been wiped by time. On the note of wealth, I do not know if I would be able to support your business or my base needs whilst pursuing those endeavors. I do not know if I will be able to find the time to see you—I admit my weakness in saying that it is a chief concern of mine. [An aborted sentence is brusquely crossed out. With some difficulty, it can be read to say: If women were admitted to those esteemed halls, I would] Old friend, there is no guarantee of my success, but every possibility of failure. Perhaps it is unmanful of me to linger in fear, but I do.
How is the business? Have you yet decided where it will go? I have always admired your ambition—a trait I ever wish to cultivate within myself—and I know our current stagnancy worries a driven woman like you. But to tell you the truth, I take a certain selfish satisfaction in knowing that at least we are for once stagnant together. It will be only for a short while, I am sure. You have never been stuck in one place for too long; before the season is up, I think you will soar again.
Sometimes I am envious of you. I wish to grow as you always do. If the One wills it, I hope to someday go forth and find new places, be it in tomes or by travel. If we ever find the time (and ability) I will take you to Lebennin, or anywhere else where we can see the Great Sea stretch into the horizon. You would like the beaches there, I think. I know I do.
Till we see each other again,
P.S. When we meet again, what do you wish to drink? I will bring a gift if we do not meet in a tavern. Knowing me, I will probably bring it even if we do.
P.P.S. I have sent along with this letter a bound treatise on the mathematician Aglarion’s work I thought you might enjoy. Mathematics has never been my best subject, so I hope it finds a better home with you.
Image made by Landrem's player with Måns Björkman's Parmaite font.
