Everything about the choice of parchment -- not paper -- for this letter, the unfailing perfection of the calligraphy, and the signet of the Order of the Pillar is presented with ballgown formality.
Angrinc
Guest Quarters, Imladris
My most esteemed mortal comrade:
I am exceedingly sorry indeed to have distressed you with my rebuttal to your idea that the Eldar have become a soft, pampered lot. Hiril Hravanis, of course, hardly needs defense: she is older yet than I -- her age, indeed, is in the most literal terms, beyond possible counting, for that she awakened before the Two Trees who preceded the Sun and Moon, and she is as mighty at arms as any soldier of such age might be expected to be. It would be charming of you, indeed, to offer her a spar. No one, even so formidable an elleth as she, is without need of amusement.
But I am afraid you may perhaps be a bit misguided in your view of my comments. One would never wish to cause more despair in the short life of the Second-born; there is trouble enough to go around, as the Periannath say in their wisdom. Small are they, but curiously able with philosophy, though they name it not so.
Nay, I wished merely to convey a certain -- well, point. I am allowed to go soft in between inserting both arms, to the elbow, in the chest of my very own husband-brother or practising my needlework upon the torso of my husband and only love because Quendi -- or I suppose you might be more familiar with the name Eldar for our folk -- such as those two were willing to lay down their hröar, to sacrifice their bodies, for that very purpose. I will see them again, of course. But I feel that even an Adan, with a may-fly's lifespan (even one of the Periannath, who takes a little walk now and then and does not overindulge on butter, may see a yén of years without trouble), may understand that the story of the Eldar is that of tragedy writ large. My entire home city was sacked and my parents killed. Only because my mother shoved me under an upturned boat-hull not long before her own murder did I survive the First Kinslaying. Now add the cities of Beleriand that fell like straw before Fate's reaping hand. Many, if not most, who walk into the hall whose comfort and wine you yourself enjoyed have such stories. At least my husband's ring was upon my finger before his first body, which had survived the sack of Gondolin, actually died. Others have not been so lucky.
Think, then, of actual thousands of years of grievous loss, of the valiant surprised unawares or struck with a dishonourably poisoned weapon -- even our couriers are prone to die early. So if you are finding some of us a bit of a stone pillow, understand that we must be stone to resist the many strokes of iron that have been the Eldar's fate since before your forefather's forefather was thought of.
My late brother would have challenged you to an immediate duel over such words in the home of a Lord whose father -- not forefather, but direct sire -- is even now permanently towing an Elf-crafted jewel around the sky. That is his job. Lord Elrond's father is, in effect, the actual Evening Star on which other kindreds make wishes. I will spare you the history of that gem and two other like it, more than I have already told -- for I have indeed done so, a bit, although arguably I have overstepped myself even in that. The very young should not hear such bloody tales.
I must go, for my cozy feather-bed awaits, if my little dog shall leave me some room upon it. I named him after my late brother, who was stabbed more than four dozen times and his abdomen opened to be feasted on by wild animals, most possibly by several Edain But do forgive the irrelevant detail! You have no time for hearing about an old lady's little dog.
I remain, Sir, your servant and that of your descendants,
Airesarë Celulinda "Manadhlaer"
Lady Pillar, Order of the Pillar
House Bar-en-Vanimar
Dictated to Sarmëtecil Teithril, whose handwriting this is
