Rivendell

I look through the previous pages of this book and I cannot believe that it was really written by the same person, and such a short while ago. Has it really only been a week? It seems like a different life now. So many things have happened -

((In the Breeland Archives, a small room at the back of the town hall, lies a trove of old tomes. One sits, dusty and long-forgotten on it's side at the bottom shelf-behind the desk. Marked with the year inside the cover-nigh on twenty years before, this is a weak and worn tome, filled with family lines and marriages, deaths and anulments, sales of land and lawsuits of the local variety. The town name is unfamiliar, but by description located far East of Bree-Land, North-West of Rivendell.

And the seamen saw an Elf with golden manes, reaching down to the end of his spine. His voice was fair and virtuous, pure and unstained. 

We stood upon the city walls, looking eagerly to the east for the rising of the sun. Most folk were quietly awaiting the Gates of Summer, though there was a subdued chatter, and merry laughter amongst some of the children. I remember smiling at a nearby group, recalling when I had been that small, and that eager.

Berion nudged me and grinned. 'That was us barely fifty years ago?'

There he was... standing tall under the golden leaves, his shadowy hair draping over his shoulders. 

There was a song of water and the elf stood still. From between the leaves in the sky, the Rammirath was shining and shedding its light on the elf's dark hair, breathing a luminious hue.