Mortals: A Case Study (Addenda and Updates)
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
27 Quellë in the Reckoning of Imladris
I have let things slip from my grasp. The days since my last entry in this study have been filled with so many odd and unusual events that I must force myself to only highlight those things that matter. My last entry was of emotional content, which I had promised myself I would not allow; this journal was to be a serious academic exercise, and NOT a silly adolescent scribbling!
However, that is what it was in danger of devolving into, despite my resolve. I confess here that perhaps it is unavoidable, especially where Cutch is concerned. He now occupies my home, my guest chamber which was formerly my Gallery, my sideboard - and more of my heart with each passing day.
I can continue to deceive myself into saying that Cutch is here solely for the purpose of academic study, that by close proximity I might find deeper perspective of the Mortals and their ways and lives - but that of course would be nothing but deception. I keep Cutch here for purely personal and selfish reasons now. Selfish, for I would not be parted from his company; personal, because well - I am falling for this Mortal a little more with each passing day. There, I set it down on parchment!
My first real admission and self-realization came a few days after my last entry, to wit: the confrontation at the Resident Council's meeting. I imagine the reaction at my arrival was the effect I sought, for I appeared at the appointed hour clad in scarlet - and bearing Dondangol. As I stood to address the assembled busybodies of Falathlorn, I absent-mindedly caressed the staff in my hands as I spoke to them in measured, slow cadence and reserved tone: how Elvish of me, I know.
I reminded them with grave dignity of that which they already mentioned in their initial note to me: that Cutch's presence is of no consequence and my own affair. I also assured the assembled upturned noses that the situation shall be of no further concern of cause for consternation - because I was leaving Imlad Lind forthwith, having obtained a new and larger residence elsewhere along the Lhun, where my comings and goings and my affairs would be of no further discomfort to the community at large. With that, I departed without another word or glance back.
That was six days ago now. It is now this evening, as I sit in the tower of my new Sanctum in the larger and more imposing Torech Besruth, with the last cartage completed and the last objets d'art set in their proper places, that I can review my notes and reflect properly on my study and situation. Cutch has busied himself beyond distraction in the Lair's expanded kitchen - and not just a sideboard, but a fully equipped kitchen - and has experimentally created the most impressive culinary delights for us to share. His study of Sindarin proceeds apace, and we have availed ourselves of the market to find new raiment for him and provision for the Lair. (Note: there is a saying among Mortals which is apropos in this instance: Cutch "scrubs up nicely"...)
It is almost morning on the 28th, and as I review this entry, I have been remiss in addressing its continuity. When I last ended my narrative, I had frightened Cutch inadvertently with my ill-timed display of anger. After reassurances and a brief explanation of my outrage, he not only understood, but totally place his trust and support in any outcome I might fashion. After the encounter with the Resident Council, I explained my plan to him for moving away from Imlad Lind - and he was fully in support of the whole notion.
A new Lair, a new morning, a new dwelling by the river - and more to discover about Mortals. And myself. But for now, I shall put down the quill and descend from my tower. I smell coffee.
Next Entry: Distracted Thoughts
