It’s Not My Lute
It was only on the way to her guest rooms in the Vale of Imladris, that Isoldis realised an error had been made. She had spent the night in the Halls of Fire, among distinguished company, acquainting herself with new faces and dancing with old friends. One such, Lord Anglachelm informed her that he was about to travel east in search of his sister, a perilous journey that would take some time and leave an absence in the halls until his return. Isoldis’ last memory was of the Lord playing a duet upon the lute...her lute. The Lord had asked to borrow it and she had acquiesced of course, but then he had forgotten to return it and now it was too late to trouble him and so Isoldis penned a quick note regarding the lute...
~~~ Dear Lord,
I pray that your journeys abroad shall know only one ending, the safe return of your beloved sister and yourself of course. The memory of your company shall burn brightly for me, as though it were a star in the night sky...
*looking up briefly, Isoldis duly noted a single star of gleaming presence and no compare that should remind her of the Lord she much admired and respected...until his return. *
...but if I may be so bold as to trouble you before your departure, I would dearly love to have my lute returned, of which is held as a great treasure to me. Kind Regards, Isoldis
~~~
The note was sent by courier and true to Lord Anglachelm’s reputation, a package arrived for Isoldis by the end of the very next day, an accompanying note apologising for the delay in its return, since a string had broken that needed to be mended. Isoldis was more than happy to receive the package, a broad pink ribbon tied around the body of the lute and across the sound hole, wherein sugared candies were held, to the brim. She could only smile and might have sat a while tasting the lute’s confection except that need to pen a response could not be withheld.
~~~ Lord Anglachelm,
I thank you kindly for this package of paper and neat string that arrived to me, therein a lute I found. It has been most skilfully repaired as you assure me in kind words, true to all the things I hear about you, that you are most honourable and giving of heart...yet...a little too generous?
*a small blot of ink denotes a pause in thought*
How shall I write this? ...it is not my lute!
I am unsure as to how the mix up has occurred and can only imagine either a mistake at the instrument maker, or else I had the error of handing you another's lute when you asked in Lord Elrond's halls.
Fear not. I shall trace the true owner forthwith and recompense them for any misgivings at your behest. Further to this, I shall attempt to salvage my own simple lute of personal treasure to me.
Worry not over these incidents of no real significance, and know that I wish you well upon your journey of great importance...Ever shall I remember my lute with a tale to sing of its adventures! Kind Regards, Isoldis
~~~
No more was written or could be written regarding the lute since Anglachelm received this letter whilst seated in the saddle, leaving Imladris. Isoldis’ courier had been most insistent in his delivery, and thus Isoldis would prove just as insistent in keeping her word to investigate the error and correct it, in the Lord’s absence, starting at the repair vendor. Here, profuse apologies were offered, the vendor promising to double check all instruments repaired that week and rectify the error at once, except upon her return visit, Isoldis learnt of no similar missing lutes that could be swapped to end the mystery. Thus, the lady could only deduce that the error lay with her, she had handed Anglachelm the wrong lute in Elrond’s halls.
In the coming week, Isoldis investigated the disappearance of her lute, crafted by her father from the first timbers felled at Hithlum, while in service to Lord Fingon at Dor-lómin. To the ordinary eye it might appear the same as any modern lute, but Isoldis knew the difference as easily as to compare the sun to the moon, alas she was apparently the only one; many elves generously offered their lutes as gifts to amend her heartache, but this only grieved Isoldis further.
In the end there was no other choice for the lady but to begin a lonely wandering of the lands of Eriador, quizzing all whom crossed her path and eagerly following up any leads that offered the faintest clue as to the whereabouts of her missing lute. Outside eyes might regard her actions as utter madness, but Isoldis could not rest, until her lute was found.
