Light fades, sounds of the evening slowly becomes perceptible… Slumped in a chair, holding tightly a delicate letter in her left hand, Ealendil stares out into the encrouching darkness as the evening approaches. She had been sitting like this for what seemed like hours.
Last night Ealendil had paced back and forth, back and forth, impatient, and ready to leave for Lórien, yet nothing had been heard yet about when they would be able to leave. She was ready, she was packed…
Her impatient wandering had eventually led her steps to the Harp Hall, and there she had, without meaning to, woken up Elvealin. They had chatted a bit about this and that, but had soon turned to the question, when they would leave. Both were ready, that much was clear. Ealendil had asked Elvealin if she could make inquires, she was after a Lady of the house and would have the ears of the others, Ealendil herself was a bit reluctant to do so herself, she held no position within the house and it might seem impertinent to do so, as if trying rise above her station. They stayed up late, but eventually had to part ways. Elvealin is a good friend, and Ealendil felt warm and joyous inside as she left her.
Next day, setting her thoughts on another path, to turn her attention on other matters, Ealendil had decided to take advantage of the offer Manadhlaer had given her, that she could ask the newly appointed secretary of the house of healing to help her sort through some of her notes. Grabbing a pile she had already prepared in advance she set out with firm steps. Humming merrily she thought about the promise she had made to write a hymn for the Pillar, none had been found in the old archives, and she had begun to envision what one should sound like give justice to the greatness of that order.
About halfway there, she was hailed by a messenger from the bird-keeper of Lord Elrond. With much exuberance, in hurried words, and eager gestures, he managed to tell her that a bird had finally come from across the mountains, carrying several letter of correspondence, and one was addressed to her. Ealendil jaw dropped at hearing that, and collecting herself she hurriedly followed him to the keep.
Upon entering the bird-keep, the freshly arrived raven cawed, stretched it wings restlessly, gave her what seemed as both an intelligent and meaningful glance, and stabbed with its beak in the direction of a number of letters that lay on the table next to it.
With a trembling hand, Eleandil reached for one whose flowing letters she immediately recognized. The same flowing Tengwar letters as she wrote in, her mother wrote in…. and her aunt, Inglaeril, also called Golwenel by those who came to heed her counsel. Ealendil began to cry softly.
Here it was, finally, a sign from Inglaeril in Lórien. Hugging tightly the letter to her chest, almost leaving behind the pile of notes she had intended to bring to the house of healing, she ran all the way back home. The bird would leave in a few days, the bird-keeper had told her that any correspondence to go with it had to be gathered without delay.
”Gi suilannon Noruinivel…” the letter began, only her aunt ever called her that, sunny faced, and so had her grandmother too, Belegyril, though she had sailed at the time of the Great War. Ealendil almost began to weep of joy… her aunt, her mother’s sister, one of the few who still remained. Of course her “niece” Niemire remained too, that young soul so absorbed in her studies of the olvar, she was from her father’s side, and the granddaughter of her father’s cousin. However, she too was family, and that was important.
Eyeing eagerly through the letter, it slowly dawned upon her what her aunt wrote about. There were events unfolding on the east side of the mountains, tidings of the war effort in the south, tidings of stirrings from Eryn Galen. Emissaries from court of Thranduil had visited the Lord and the Lady. What had come out of these meeting her aunt knew not, but it was clear that great things were transpiring, and her aunt had talked about being able to go to Eryn Galen. Reading that, Ealendil thought back on her time there, so long ago, and the friends she had left behind. She sighed, that was a long time ago indeed…
Suddenly Ealendil went erect, and she reread the last passage of the letter that she had set her eyes upon. Her aunt asked her to come and live with her! Not just come and visit… Ealendil sighed, and shook her head. I cannot abandon my work here, I cannot abandon my friends…. those are what anchor me in this valley, she despairingly thought to herself.
She slumped into one of the chairs… and remained sitting like that.
As the darkness of the night encroached further, Ealendil got up, still holding the letter in her hand. She had no idea what she would respond her aunt. She is family, and family is important, Ealendil nodded to herself. But respond she must, her aunt was a most stubborn one, and would not be easily swayed.
Ealendil began to ponder. What duties did she have here that bound her to this place, this beautiful vale, whose protection she owed much too, the house that had taken her in, and to which she had sworn an oath. No, she surmised, she had no duty here... save that which bound her to her friends, to her work… she had stopped to think of it has her mother's work by now, and, above all, to her work with Lindamar that gave her and others so much incomparable joy.
Sighing, Ealendil rose slowly. Best to write a response, her aunt is very stubborn, and she had to return an answer telling her that they were coming.
Ealendil walked up to one of the tables where she usually worked, drew forth a blank of sheet paper, and, in the same elegant flowing hand-writing as her aunt, began to shape letters in Tengwar carrying her response.
