We stood facing each other, but a little over an arm’s length apart. Ithil shone down upon us, touching him with a true-silvered hand. The warm breeze ruffled both our hair. All I could see was the culmination of my dreams. Oh, there were other things I hoped for, other things I dreamed, but this was and always had been the heart of my heart. That he would know happiness. That we would be as one. 

Eventually we were rescued, of course, else I would not be recounting this. 

I walked onto the biting ice of the Hithaeglir to save him. He walked into the flames of a burning house to save me. Perhaps we are equal now? Not that I ever held it to be some sort of contest, nor that I would not do it again. Thinking thus upon our past reminds me of the talk we had when returning from Imladris to Falathorn for the first time. We stopped on the edge of the Old Forest, just in sight of the Brandywine bridge.

The course of events has escalated rapidly since last I wrote. I may be gone some time longer than I intended but you can be assured that progress has been made in our arrangements with the dwarves. For which I will continue to send word of my experiences.

Author's Note: This story is borne of the mention of three 'random' names of the dead at a recent kin event (news of three fellows killed while guarding a caravan bound for Imladris on Company business). It offers some background for a future kin RP about the items taken.