Sea-mist splashed my face, my back turned towards the wind. The sun set on the horizon, and my eyes grew weary. In the haven below, was my love, my dearest, and our child. Born not two years ago. I think of wooded paths, and stone floors he will never know. A roaming vigil, kept by tall men come from the sea, a life I had. A life I belong to. I cast a stone into the waves, and hear the steps of her. Her scent keeps me home, binds me ever to this place. My heart could never belong anywhere else. I turn to her, and kiss her and then my son, wrapped up in her arms. How could I ever think to leave this place, to leave her? I am not my mother, I am Aranarion, son of Arandur. I repeated in my head.
But alas, a frown fell on her face, and she knew before I what would occur. “Thou art thinking of the North again, aren’t thee?”, she said, as my heart betrayed me. My eyes grew weary and I felt as if my head had grown thirty pounds heavier. And I turned from her, and for a moment we were silent. “I must return. I have…”, I said, but the sound of her sniffling made me stop, but I continued, callous and craven as I am. “I have a duty to my people, that I have betrayed for far too long. This life….it isn’t mine, it was never meant to be”. I heard her fall to the ground behind me, and my son began to cry. This stirred me from my selfish stupor, locked in a battle of wits with the setting sun. I turned and I knelt beside them, and stroked her cheek gently. “I love you, more than you will know. But I cannot live this lie, I cannot live in comfort while my people toil. You are destined for this place, and our son, but I am not.” My hand lingered upon her cheek, as I rose, and slowly it slipped off. I am not my mother, I am Aranarion, son of Ithiliell.
“I cannot…I am sorry.”, I said, ripping my eyes away, as I went to gather my things, leaving her there. I could not bear to set my eyes upon her any longer. But it was for a noble purpose, that I now leave. I am not my mother, I am Aranarion, the craven. I gathered my things as quickly as I could, reluctant to leave this life behind, but much of my belongings here must stay. For to remember this life is a torture worse than an eternity spent in the pits of Utumno. And as I left our humble abode, atop the hill above the sea, I was confronted once more, by she and my child. Arahil, my dearest son, forgive my cowardice. I kissed my love, thrice for my departure, but she stopped me as the words “Goodbye” uttered from my mouth. She did not beg me to stay, nor did she plead to join me, nor did a tear fall from her any longer. A steel-eyed look she met my eyes with, a look of confidence that brought upon my love to her years ago. “Take him, please, my love.”, she said and she extended Arahil to me. For a moment my heart quailed and I thought that I should stay. But I took him, and I parted. And through tear filled goodbyes, I found Herior and his cart.
I write this now as I rock you my son, the stones on his wheels stir your fragile sleep. And I, most unfit hope you will understand someday, the weakness of your father. For I am not Aranarion, the bold, or the wise. I am my mother.
Attached to the letter is a poem, written in the same hand as the letter:
What lie beneath grass, thick and green?
Be it roots that stretch and grow unseen?
Or perhaps stone, that stands against all.
Seeing Kingdoms’ rise, and harrowed fall.
Stone weathers all, in lands so fair.
Long have towers stood untouched by wear.
Or so have I wished, in my long dreams.
But other tales spun, from rock to stream.
But the world touched you not.
Nor time erode what light hath wrought.
Eyes of cold hardened gray.
Remind me that I did not stay.
Silky hair fall long below
Those fair shoulders and skin aglow
A fair shape follow thy skin to bone
A warmth that ever calls me home
Long in sleepless nights do I find
I cannot chase you from my mind
Eternity could not chase us apart
Wherever you go, with you goes my heart
