In the beginning of the second age Hrávanis did make a long and arduous and lonely journey east, far past Rhun and on to where she thought she remembered Cuivienen to be. She found salt flats and petrified trees haunted by the remnants of Utumno that stood dead but still malicious over it. It was unrecognisable in sunlight, but when night fell she found parts of it quietly familiar. The salt flats even reflected the stars a little, reminiscent of the lake’s surface.
But it wasn’t a crushing blow that it had changed so dramatically, there was a beauty here even if it wasn’t recognisable and there was also some… relief? Some healing to be found that this place, that had become such a horror to her towards the end, that had been her first battlefield, still had visible scars from that terror. She wasn’t unchanged and neither was it and that felt right to her. But it also allowed her to leave it behind.
She also travelled south a while and came upon cities of dwarves and avari and humans who traded amongst each other in languages that were utterly strange to her. But they invited her in anyway, and one elf had a recollection of the primitive elvish of long ago. They didn’t remember any of her old names but she was able to speak to them of their tales and how they had survived. She did not belong there either and whilst they said she was welcome to return she knew that would not be for some time.
But she still found belonging in the discovering. She found home in the walking, she found comfort in first meetings and she found herself in every introduction she made in a language she barely knew. Hrávanis considers home to be anywhere she can leave and come back too. So, in truth, she considers everywhere but Valinor her home. There are places she knows better, for the moment, but her great age gives her the perspective that she will not know it soon enough. Soon it will change and she will learn it all over again. So, in a very deeply felt and foundational way, Hrávanis has made change the place she can rest easy.
