amathlan

Even if things go well at first, there are always dips and rocks on the path. My words were sharp and covered in thorns, but as were his.

I honestly can not recall the last moment I was so furious! 

My anger raged and burned as Amathlan and I spoke. It has been ages since such fury rose. Though I am still trying to quell my anger inside, I also feel ashamed.

I suppose it was my fault in the first place, writing to Cardanith behind his back as I did. I should have spoken with Amathlan first. But what can one do, if they are worried? 

“I want for ruin or glory, and none in between.”

A hurriedly scribbled letter, folded unevenly and rumpled. It is roughly tied with a blue ribbon and the writing is barely legible it is so shaky.

To Cardanith, residing in Imladris

Hir Cardanith,

It grieves me to have to write to you. You do not know me, but your friend Amathlan is very dear to me. I know not if this will reach you, nor if you care to hear my words, but I must speak to you.

Honestly, where has Amathlan's mind fled to?

Just a day past, he had been thanking me for my never-ending patience and smiling at my stories. I thought his heart might be healing....

Obviously it was all a ruse. His heart is broken and anger has filled the emptiness inside. The sharp way his words came out of his mouth, was shocking to say the least. He was going on and on about death, glory and ruin. The only time I have seen someone in such a state of anger was when....well I shall not dwell in the past. I must focus on Amathlan at the moment.

I cannot breathe. My chest feels like it’s going to cave in on itself. In a nightmare, I am falling - but it’s right into Gondolin again. I can taste the heat of flames and I know what happens in this moment - this is the moment I dive in front of Mallossel and take the brunt of the dragon’s fire from her.

I must write this quietly. I dare not make too much noise, lest I wake Amathlan. He has finally fallen into slumber, which he so desperately needs. But I can not sleep, no matter how hard I try. Perhaps writing will give some peace of mind and I will be allowed to rest as well.

I thought I was too old to be in love. Most of my kin are married once, and by the age of their maturity - around one hundred years old. To not be married by then is considered queer, or as if fate had another plan. 

I assumed, that after nearly seven thousand years, fate simply had another plan. 

As good of an elf as he is, sometimes I wish to smack Amathlan upside his pretty head. Hardheaded and proud, he is. He is prideful to a fault and apparently does not like others to help him, even when he is seriously injured!

Here is what happened...

I had not dreamed in many days. Between the wound in my shoulder - which had been infected, but is now healing - and the turmoil in my own emotions concerning one close to me, I thought I would dream more often than the silence that faced me when I closed my eyes. 

Discarded in the corner of the upper room of the Company house is a note. The paper was balled up and tossed aside, though if one were to smooth it out...