Reiven

Rivendell. When walking the imposing halls of the Lord Elrond, when listening fragments of small talk of the beautiful Eldar of the Valley, when loosing the turmoil of my thoughts and fears in that of the waterfall, when its drops merge tears making them cold as snowflakes on my face instead of burning fire I can almost forget. For a whole second at least..

I ran for hours. I know the surroundings here like few do, yet I wanted to put some distance to the settlement and silence my yelling contradictory thoughts. Most probably no one will find me unless I chose to allow it. I look critic to the path behind me and no, I did no mistake.

“What am I to do with you??”

Back to Falathlorn, after visiting Lindon, I watch a moonless sky where the clouds hide part of the stars drawing a changing sky map..

I need to tell Reiven of my latest findings regarding Daelith’s sword. What Themodir told me about it’s history. The days spent away, with Cirdamir and his friends, helped me elutriate frustration and disappointment from what I feel true in his words.

Cirdamir reminded me a legend I read as a child. The story of Gurthang. So many similarities.. but is this an age for such powerful artefacts to manifest their good or evil power? Would the sword of a random Noldor soldier possess such spell? I was wandering Duillond when I saw Reiven again. Likely or not if Cirdamir saw such similarities I should warn her.

While the sword was catching the light of the day, resting now on the closed lid of the chest Reiven reminded me the day the Sword was lost, as I could forget it myself. Years ago, she was overwhelmed and tormented by something evil that struggled to control her. She had seek wisdom and help in Rivendell but no one yet gave her an answer. And one day, a elf she recognized from dark dreams attacked her on sight. Was the strength and fast reaction of Veryacano that saved her, for he disarmed the attacker and threw the weapon in the Falls of Imladris.

She was in a corner, i remember her poor sad face. Her beautiful and joyful spring dress was making the contraste even stronger... Poor Isoldis... was she here physically ? or was i dreaming her ? It seemed that i was the only one to notice her... the dancers were like parasites between her and me, sliding on the grey stone... they had no face... was there any music ?

My dear Father Urnu,

My dear Father Urnu, i send you another paper to tell you not to worry too much : things are getting better here. People let me do what i wish and be as i wish, especially Reiven is very kind : i was wrong to think her cold and unsensitive, she's simply shy and discreet, but she's an attentive and interesting person. Things are just different here, and as much as i ask that they respect my differences, i must learn to respect theirs. I have entered the library... so many books and scrolls... it's very interesting !