Diary, Diary, Diary. I have so much to explain.
Through the yéni, the Vanyar and others have nurtured a song that, when sung to one asleep, heals the fëa through dreams. One travels, often in the form of an animal -- some soar as eagles, or even sea-birds as if they had taken form like Elwing. And one sees, or does not. One looks upon Valinor.
So it was that I loosed my girdle, unlocked the door to my house, and lay down in bed to let my mind wander. I had one question in mind, and only one.
I believe Elvealin came first. I had already begun to sink into sleep, I believe, for I remember sensing her, and her particular leafy smell of the mellyrn, and then Norlië came second, escorting Tûr. He wished to see the process for himself, for only by undergoing it could I myself heal his immense burden of torment and grief to any extent by singing the song. Norlië was the primary singer, she told me the next day, with Elvealin chanting a sort of descant, a duet voice. Norlië held my hand, and Elvealin hers, and Anglachelm stood opposite them on the other side of the bed. (Note to self: Use lap desk instead of bedside table. That was rather a crowd.)
Again -- for you know what she did, Diary, in order that Anglachelm could marry me to Themodir at all -- Norlië sang from her own fëa, this time the song just as Elvealin had taught it her. She told me that she had added some lyrics of her own, and that Tûr's eyelids flickered as she sang, as if he fought off sleep -- and memory.
I was a dolphin, and oh, I took such joy in leaping high above the waves and plunging beneath. I swam with immense strength and speed, for as such creatures do in life, I thought I was following a ship -- one that sailed the Straight Road, for I was going home to look upon Valinor.
Then I was myself, and in a bed -- my bed in my parents' home? For Themodir was there, and at once I cried out, "O! My only love! My silver swan!" But he shushed me, and said I was dreaming. This time, however, I could feel his touch.
He answered the question that mattered most. He showed me the hole in his slashed armour. No wound, no scar, but healthy skin glowed through the sword-rent. My love, my husband -- he is healed. He feels not the slightest itch anymore. Praise Lord Ñamó!
I felt compelled to tell him that Anglachelm grieves, as does Norlië. He asked wherefore the Swan-lord grieved, and I said simply, "He blames himself." I added that poor Norlië blames herself for not being able to save him from the poison that, at the time, had no antidote. Themodir wept a single, shining tear that did not fall on me. I told him that I console both as best I may, and keep them and all of his friends from harm.
Then it was as if something summoned him urgently, indeed pulled him away. Resisting this, he told me that he had always loved me -- his last words to me upon the pathway of the Last Homely House. I replied that I knew well for many reasons, one being that I had found the poem that he pressed between the leaves of the astrological tome we discovered in his house. He turned toward the light, and back to me, and said urgently, "There is more." He kissed my hand -- which I felt, O I felt it this time!
As he turned to the light, I said that when the long fight was over and every trace of Shadow cleansed from the land we shall be leaving to the mortal races, I could give him the son he had wanted for so long. I cried out, "Galadhion shall live in Valinor!" But he disappeared into the shining... what was that light? An open door? and spoke no more.
That is all I remember. Diary, I tell you that after this, I slept better than I can remember doing in any recent memory. I did not wake until the next morning, and I woke refreshed and with good appetite.
I owe my friends so much... and now I owe my Tûr a vocal performance, it would seem. I have elected not to tell him what I saw until after that, lest I influence his own dream, but I doubt not that I can work in lyrics of a white city full of tall white towers.
