Of hearts and stones

And thus came the darkness; a veil of black shadows hovering over the world I have grown to love. My own dagger brought it down upon us, though it was not my hand that guided it. Long have I wondered, but to no avail - questions remain unanswered, and the riddle will never be solved. I threw the weapon away, I will never lay my hands on it again. A river of tears I cried that night, and to Vardas stars I screamed and wailed, though my voice was not heard by any creature or Arda, for it was only the voice of my heart that spoke. The next days I spent in solitude and mourned, waiting for her to do the same, as we all lost a friend that night.



Within the sacred walls of Imlad Gelair, surrounded by flowers and the faint echo of a bard playing a joyful tune on his flute, I recalled a voice of old; my father singing of a lonely mariner, a song he loved dearly.  My heart cried for the sea as much as it did for her, and the peace I believed to have found within her arms, drifted away like a ship in the mists of morning. 



Many the green isle needs must be
In the sea of misery
Or the mariner who's so worn and won
Never thus could voyage on



Day and night, and night and day
Always drifting on his dreary way
Always been drifting on his dreary rack
Closing round vessel's track



Then morning came, and with it his voice faded from my mind. Later that day she came to talk, though no words of courage or inspiration were spoken between us. The sorrow still shaded our hearts, and I could not think of much else then to leave these lands and return to Lórien, one of the few places that still means something to me; one of the few remaining links. In the end, we agreed that I should stay a while longer, even though my heart aches from the thought. The closer I am to the sea, the stronger I wish to go home. And as I promise her that I will stay, another journey forms in my mind; not a long one but long enough, for now. I’ll leave Imladris behind and seek refuge in the woods and ruins of Tâl Bruinen, a place that also means much to me. As I saddle my horse at night, I decide not to leave any note behind. If she wants to find me, she will, though I believe she needs to handle her sorrow alone without my interference, at least for a few days. It will do us both good, I believe. The stars are glimmering beneath a cloudy veil and I can almost hear them sing, as their radiant light makes music of their own.



When dreamers seem to be
Weltering through eternity
And the dim low line before
Of a so dark and distant shore



Still recedes as ever still
Longing with divided will
But no power to seek or stun
He's ever drifting on and on



Thundering hooves and a strong wind occupy my mind as I ride over the hills, towards the place of peace that I crave. With me I have supplies to last at least one week, as well as my sword and shield; for I have not forgotten the dangers that lurks in the woods. My heart is heavy and my mind is grim, but still I ride on, until I reach the desired destination. The very walls appears to have a life of its own. Unforgiving and almost with a feeling of anger, they watch my passing. I have disturbed their rest, only to seek selfish refuge in their midst. I have no right to intrude on their eternal sleep, though in the end they let me pass and soon the walls have fallen asleep again; content with my silent presence. The circle of flowers have not changed since last I visited, and a memory dear to me plays before my eyes; how we once danced in the circle, with only the trees and flowers as audience. I fall to my knees with a fair smile and takes a deep breath; re-living the moment we danced together. And as I loose myself in memories, the sweet scent of flowers and the stunning sound of silence, I can hear my father sing again. His tone changes with every word, and with it, it becomes darker for every second until his voice is bound by sadness, a heavy longing for peace and love.



Over the unresponding wave
To heaven of the grave
What if there no friends will greet?
What if there no heart will ever meet?



Wanderer wherso'er he may
Can he dream before the day
To find refuge from distress
In friendship's smile and in love's caress?



I pick up a leaf that falls before me, a sweet gift from the tree that shall soon rest until the next change of seasons. I carry it in my hand as I rise from the ground and walk around the great circle, slowly, step by step, careful not to tread at the sleeping flowers and ruin their beauty. The sound of silence is striking; it makes a song of its own, and it goes forever on. There are no lyrics to be heard, nor any tones, though still the music is ravishing. Within I feel my heart getting lighter by the second, but still it is far from being free of burdens. I carry blood on my hands that will never wash away. The stains themselves may have disappeared and my eyes cannot see them; though a heart can only be so pure as the person who carry it, and as my hands are stained, so is my heart. Placed upon it are many stones and burdens, some may leave, where others never will.



It is morning and the sun sends her arrows of light upon the ruins, the old rocks glittering in delight and the trees awaken slowly. There is no wind in here, but still they dance and move to the music that silence made. As the trees are dancing, I cannot hold my heart still; and I start to hum silently, and then I dance together with the trees, as were they someone I hold dear. A sense of understanding runs through me. Friendship is a beautiful thing, even in death. In the Halls we shall meet again some day, and until then, a fair and just journey I wish for you, my friend and kin!



Another burden flies away, one pound of stone removed from my heart.






... how many stones remain?