14 June
My only love,
I have blinked, and five years have passed since I held your hröa in my arms, long after your fëa had sped to Mandos.
It makes me happy to imagine that Lord Ulmo pulled the blue rose given me by hiril Gilinnen, mother of Elvealin, and which I set on top of the surf at Lindon, along the Straight Road until it came to the shores of the Blessed Lands, and to think that there it came to your hand. For you would know at once who sent it and what it meant.
Truly, my silver swan, I wish at times there were not so much work to be done before I could take ship and look upon your face again, fairest countenance of all your kindred. But you yourself taught me about oaths and duty. I fear there is much that must happen yet before we can wholly abandon Arda to the Second-born.
And yet, when the great Hall of the Hammer is empty of your comrades in arms, I steal in from time to time and gaze on the likeness of you painted by Elloen, who is a true genius of the brush. Just as he captured Norliriel in thought and motion, so that his portrait of her could be mistaken for no other, he has returned to me the vision of you -- and here words fail me. But if I could speak no other word save your name, it would yet resound through the Vale. New recruits who never met you speak of Themodir of Gondolin, valiant and chivalrous, and how much they wish to live up to your example.
My darling! Wait for me. I shall come to your side in time, and there will be a Galadhion, even as you have shown. But I think you also know -- for you proved what duty meant to you, did you not, by taking the field when you knew that you would not return on your own feet? -- that I must learn what else I may, and heal whom I can, and above all do honour to my oath to Bar-en-Vanimar. I will not come until I can look into your beautiful eyes and say that, in truth, I gave my all to throw back the Shadow for ever.
What indeed are years when two fëar are one?
Your faithful, your endlessly devoted
M.
