Long and impulsive are the journeys of Galmaxthalion. Guided by the whispers of the wind and the flow of the waters of middle-earth, he wanders where he is needed, but mostly where his heart takes him. It is no secret also that the fading of the year has a special place in his thoughts. The enchantment that winter casts on his world-bound fëa is in no small part due to the festivities and gatherings of the free-folk away in warm halls, filled with music and song. It is no wonder than that news of one such event reached him on his road. And knowing him, even less wonder there lies in the quickness of mind with which he turned towards Imladris, where the hall he sought lay hid. Although of different kin than the inhabitants of that valley, with which he had little contact before Doriath fell, he has had contact with some since, especially those in Lothlorien. The festivity proved to be a marvellous experience of poetry, music, dancing and of course elvish cuisine. And to his delight, and presumably everyone else’s, elves from all remaining greater realms of the third age were present. By the grace of the hosts of the gathering, Galmaxthalion was even treated with an opportunity to entertain the gathered with a short poem he thought of on his journey to the valley. Alas the evening came to an end just as the seasons always do before coming again, hopefully with more festivities alike this feast with them. But before returning to wandering this corner of the world he was presented with an elven crafted instrument by the generous Lady of The Flower and her kinsfolk. His long lasting resolve to spread music and song to the places tormented by The Shadow being greatly bolstered by this gift and the company of fellow elves in his favorite time of the year, will hopefully prove fortunate for more than a few of the free-peoples in their struggles.
