I could hear the Anduin's everflowing voice, though I could not see it: too many trees blocked my sight like silver pillars with golden crowns. The wildflowers always bloom in Lórien, the trees are alive despite the cold winter and the sky is clear... this place is powerful, enhanced by the light of the Eldar. If it is the Lady's power that allows the trees and earth to speak, I do not know, but I can hear the voices of them all around me, dancing with my people.
Alas, they will forget us. The trees will wither and the flowers die and the Anduin will not even remember what lay here. Save the stones of course... they never forget. I envy the trees: they can forget. Their memories might be washed away with the falling rain or changing of the seasons, but the memory of the Elves does not wither or die and remains as real as anything around me. I had been holding a bundle of flowers, white and yellow and green, in my hands while thinking these thoughts. I did not even notice how the voice of the Anduin welcomed the dark clouds overhead, or how smaller animals ran for cover.
So the rain came, falling gently at first: twas the rain of summer and gentle song. And I did not stir. I stood as still and solid as the unforgetting stone, my silver hair slowly becoming soaked and my light clothes becoming heavy. I was staring at the flowers held by my long, ancient hands. White, yellow and green.
Then the heavy rain came without a moment's warning or notice, scaring the tiny creatures away. Still I did not stir: for this rain was as real as my memories and in my memories I was wandering. In a glade just like this, loved by wildflowers and tall trees and starlight.
I held her soft hand in my own and we ran like the wind, laughing and dancing between the trees of dark grey and green. Her face was shining and in her eyes, the stars of heaven had descended. Her dark hair that had a faint touch of earthy brown in torchlight, was flying madly around her as if it too wanted to dance. Flowers, pale white and glistening, adorned her tresses and made her more beautiful than any jewel could. We were both clad in simple white, hers flowing to her feet and lithe limbs, whereas mine reached only my knees. We were both unadorned, save for the flowers and thin, golden bands on our hands, wrought to look like leaves.
I ducked under a branch, my silvery hair lighting the way like a tiny star and she, laughing, followed me and ran past me with nimble steps on bare feet. For a moment she was lost out of sight and my heart skipped but her voice came to me ahead and with a smile, I rushed to her side. I do not know how long we laughed and danced under the stars: before the Sun and Moon, Time was fleeting and unimportant. What little wine we had consumed at the feast was probably what made us act so silly, but in my youth, I was probably like this quite often.
And we danced together then, in a glade that was filled with wildflowers that reached our knees and they were a myriad of colours. We kissed much and laughed even more, turning round, round and round. Her hand, so gentle and warm, was as soft as her fair face, slid slowly down my chest where my heart beat faster beneath my muscles and flesh. And into her eyes I looked as our garments suddenly became looser: twas a pair of depthless wells I looked into, housing the light of the stars as if Varda herself had set them there.
We were still in the month of Lothron when I found her by the fire in our chambers, her face immaculate and unrevealing. She turned to me as I stood and watched her, my form dripping of the heavy rain that had fallen before I reached Menegroth. And then I noticed the new warmth that lived in her eyes, her pale skin and rosy smile. And then she told me.
I did not move or speak for a long moment and then I felt my heart burst and it became bigger in my chest: surely I would topple over from the extra weight. But instead I simply smiled and kissed her profusely and she couldn't stop laughing and then I sunk to my knees in front of her, my wet clothes making her sigh. I placed my ear on her stomach and wrapped my arms around her slender form and imagined I could already hear what grew in there.
And I whispered to it our names and how happy we were and many other, nonsensical things, and the water dripping from my body made music as it splashed on the stone floor.
The falling rain did not make music now. It drenched out all sounds, even the Anduin and the trees, as it poured relentlessly. By now I was as wet as one could become, but I still stood there, holding the flowers that one by one, fell to the ground. And though my eyes burned and I knew tears flowed, I could not tell them apart from the rain. They were lost in the steady stream and not even the stones would remember this moment.
I closed my eyes, sending another torrent of tears down my pale cheeks, trying to forget the wildflowers that despite the rain, stood up with petals of white and yellow and green.
