Imladris: The dire and the bright
Comyahí ana lindelë ar estel imi sillumë ohtana
Ah, of my hours here. Most of these embellished in a flourish of music and the applause of strangers, yet some already more dour.
The house of Elrond, it seems is more frequented by mortals than I had initially anticipated; and be it that I mind not their presence... still, I cannot help but find their presence a nuisance; a blemish on the held out peace of those halls. They come and ask to see the libraries and gardens... they come as guests, purposeless; do they not know what strife lies even just beyond the valley? Are they so naive? Ai...
I' Bar-en-Vanimar seems too a place in a pendulum's swing of dire news and gaiety, and oft I muse if I am the only one that holds guilt for the music and chatter in hours that battles may be fought.
Yes, guilt led me here, and it shall keep me here, but shall I ever truly rejoice in the comfort of this younger, brighter society while it clings to my back and breathes like sulfur across the back of my neck and spine?
The smiles that creep onto my lips in the contented times... to both the music of Norliriel and Fealivril... and yes, to the young inya that dropped so suddenly from the balconies... I ramble, but those smiles bring guilt.
Am I not one to match the nobility of Sindëlassë or my father before me?
All that spoken of by Nanthon and the shaken female beside him...
I digress. I must not dwell in this, it is to be the death of me.
Perhaps some core of my being cannot help but rejoice at the gatherings that still find their place even in these hours, so may it be that we sing and play to give us all the hope required to survive the final hours here.