Some hundred years ago, Forlindon
Little Earcalie watched fascinated as the quill in her mother’s hand produced black signs on an immaculate white parchment with flawless precision, with constant speed stopping only for the time necessary to dip the writing tool in the inkwell. Often her mother would write bedtime stories for her, so she came to like the art even though all she could understand at the time was that the signs produced by the quill were called words, the same words that are read in books and form stories. The crick crick of the quill on parchment made her giggle.
“Are you writing a new story for me naneth?”
Mehtarnis smiled at her, but shook her head. “Not this time dear. This is a letter for a friend of mine”
“But you write a story for me after?”
“I wrote you one two days ago and we have not finished it yet. When we finish reading that one, I will write you a new one”
Earcalie huffed. She loved her mother dearly and usually wouldn’t protest when she was denied something by her… but stories should take priority. “What are you writing then?”
“A letter for Lady Cellinwen. She invited us to spend the Elven Solstice in her mansion and I am replying to her”. Earcalie huffed even more, earning a reprimanding gaze from Mehtarnis. “Don’t behave so. We always paid her a visit”.
She knew that protesting wouldn’t work and she would have to bear the journey to Harlond, where her mother’s friend lived. The Lady Cellinwen was not a bad elleth by any means, she was a close friend of Mehtarnis, going back to the days of Gondolin when they were all young and carefree. But she did not read to little Earcalie when she asked, and this to the child was very offending. She never liked the Lady since.
“She is boresome mother, she talks and talks of uninteresting things and never reads me stories”.
Mehtarnis stopped writing, putting the quill down, frowning at her daughter. “What is this language? I do not want to hear these words again, am I clear?”
“But—“
“Am I clear?”. The little elleth looked down and nodded. She resumed watching as the letters filled the parchment and turned into words, wishing for it to be over soon so she could finish the tale of Elerrina the Star Maiden, the one she left halfway…
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Present days, library of Imladris
Earcalie was walking in the library of the Last Homely House, her eyes glued to the pages of a very old book, so near the crumbly surface of the parchment that it was as if she was about to be pulled inside the tome. This in particular had been a lucky find in a pile of crumbly, old tomes destined to the elven copyists, but surely they wouldn’t be mad at her for taking it, she just had to make sure to handle the tome with extreme care. The book she found was titled “The Watch Against the Night”. She knew what it was about from mother, they had a copy of it in their library at home and Mehtarnis read it to her more than once, however it was a very recent one and the manuscript from which it was copied had been lost. This old crumbly tome seemed to be closer to the original, or so Earcalie hoped, scanning every line of text for the littlest differences between this and the book back home.
“Gondolin of old was home to the most legendary Marchwardens of the Elder Days… I already know… This tome is an account told by a scribe of those brave Elf-warriors during the long wars against Morgoth…. I know… heroic epic, told in linnod-verse… yes…”
How much she wished she could have seen her mother and father dressed in the raiments of the Heavenly Arch, standing proud with their fellow brothers and sisters in arms… but those raiments stood immobile now, dressing display mannequins instead.
"But they of the Heavenly Arch being a folk of uncounted wealth were arrayed in a glory of colors."
She had always been a dreamer. When someone remarked her that, she would answer jokingly that the “fault” lied in all the stories she was told as a child. But how could she not be so? She did not live in the golden age of her people. Stories and dreams were all she had to be there, to pretend had been there. Earcalie closed the book and dusted off her clothes. A plain brown and white tunic tailored more for comfort than for parading. She sighed. Oftentimes she would stare at her mother’s armour, imagining how it would look like on herself. Would she look like mother at her age? Would she be able to stand in line with her fellow warriors, shining like a star with the shield and sword all encrusted with gems?
What would mother think of her now instead, if she were there? She bade her and father farewell on the docks of Mithlond with a promise.
“When I return to you, I will have made a name for myself in this marred Arda like you did. I will make our family proud of me”
Was she closer to her objective? She dusted off the cover of the old tome. It was so old, some dust was probably glued to it. The answers she was seeking were not in the book, of course; she knew that it is through her deeds that she will be able to keep her promise. Deeds and dreams. “Unattainable dreams are the best kind” she would reply to anyone who dared question her belief. Because what accomplishment was it if the goal was readily available?
“Just like Elerrina the Star Maiden wished to travel to the stars, I will……!”
“Be quiet! You are disturbing the peace of the library, and give me that tome!” One of the archivists glared at her, marching towards the tome holding a hand out.
“I’m sorry!”. Earcalie shoved the dusty old book in the ellon’s hands, scampering away gaining the glares of a couple more librarians. She only read few pages before getting lost in the meanderings of her head… but she was a dreamer, after all.
