To you, for whom my heart sings,
I feel as though my thoughts are clouded. While the shadows move, bold as you can imagine, I remain relatively stagnant. I am faltering; I wonder how much longer I might continue on in this way. I thought I had overcome this deep sickness in my heart long ago... here, there is a yearning that I cannot escape. In the sound of the wind rustling through the trees, I hear your laugh, and I could swear I've seen the glint of sunlight on your armour in the corner of my eye.
Alas, I cannot-- I will not forsake my quest yet. Perhaps I never shall. I had heard, long lifetimes ago, a thing which yet gives me hope that we will meet again. That hope must be enough for me, for now.
I am resting at Imladris once again. Though I tarried here but recently, I fear it is I who must needs seek healing now. So it is that I am penning yet another splash of musing, not two moons after the last.
When I began this queer habit, filling page after page with idle thoughts and addressing them to you, I recall that I wrote as though you might truly read them one day. It was helpful, for a time, but I noticed that I did not dare to write everything, whether for fear of your judgement or your concern. I chastised myself for such demure and unreasonable behaviour, yet I feel most keenly that it is the only way I will strengthen my heart now.
It is the sea that calls me, and the hope that you await me on those beckoning shores. It is the reopening of deep wounds thought to be long scarred over as that which parted so dear a friend from me rises once again.
(Here, a larger blot of ink at the end indicates where he held his quill overlong.)
My dreams are scented with reunion and peace, the likes of which I can scarcely fathom in waking moments. I fear, perhaps, that I am weary at last of the echo of grief. Dearest of all of my friends, I must confess that I do not recall how it feels to rest easily. My heart has not beat without anguish since that day, not once-- and, truth be told, even from years before that.
If I am half as observant as I once was, I feel I may say with some confidence that Elrond, too, tires. I do not believe I would have been able to bear all that he has, though, and so I look up to him these days. I am quite sure you would laugh to know this!
I should hope that is the end of my more melancholy reports. Now, for myself to look back upon and smile, and for your possible, eventual enjoyment, I ought to recount gladder tidings.
There are a few I have spent more time with than I normally would, a blessing of my tarries in Bree and Imladris. There is an elf... although, they are the oddest elf I have ever met. Nevertheless, I find them charming, and I hope they will remain in my company or nearby for quite some time to come! They (and here, another stain from a stayed pen) remind me to pause now and then, and enjoy the present, rather than simply running from the past into the arms of the future.
There is a woman, too, who sends me letters to scold me for a missed payment on horse-fare! I am quite certain I did send her the coin, and more than once. By now, I have come to look forward to our meetings, though I wonder if she does not chase me as though I were her prey...
There is also a dwarf, though I cannot say what it is about him that I find most curious, compared to others. He follows a path similar to mine, paved with music and the intent to heal others. I have had the unique opportunity to see him grow; there was nearly a full year between our first and second meetings. Perhaps this is why I find myself so attached.
Shortly, I shall return to my travels. I believe I shall make it my business to journey east, for that is surely where I am most sorely needed. After all, I still believe in what I told you so long ago: every tiny light in the darkest of times is as illuminating as the very sun. All paths are best traveled with even one torch, rather than none.
Lest you worry-- should you ever have the chance to read these pages, after all-- I do feel better now than I did before setting ink to the paper. There is yet life in this body, and I shall wear it thin if I must, to fill this world with as much love and warmth as I am able.
This is the most I can do for this world, as thanks for the time I have been allowed to spend here.
