Mortals: A Case Study (Distracted Thoughts)
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
37 Quellë in the Reckoning of Imladris
It is once again the Hour of the Wolf at the Lair - but this time the Wolf is sleeping, and not stalking at my threshold. It is merely the very same hour of the night watches, when the lanterns burn low along with the hearth-fires. In the last two watches of the night, I have written at best three full pages of notes, for I keep stopping in mid-sweep of my quill, staring in rapt contemplation of my writing hand - and the ring that now rests upon my finger.
A ring, of bright metal with a glittering zircon gem in its setting, now rides upon my hand as my heart rides upon the winds. And how it got there is, well...
Such a grand ball was held at the Grand Opening Feast of the Lair. Friends past and present, comrades old and new, lords and ladies of several houses all dined and danced in my halls. Dear Cutch created a splendid and sumptuous feast for the company, and also served it with pride becoming his skill. Keeping pace with him was little Lancogard , who served my guests with stylish Halfling courtesy that was appropriate for even the grandest events.
But it was my beloved Oath-sister, Hartagil, who announced to the assembled nobles and guests that Cutch begged audience with me - and in awkwardly accented but proper Quenya, recited the words I never would have thought to hear: Melanyet ar merin vesta tyenna. Man indotya ná? {I love you, and I want to marry you. What is your will?}
Now, of course, I knew this day was coming - Cutch and I had discussed it at length, but it was Hartagil whom he asked for leave to woo me (and THAT is a story for another day) - she herself must have drilled him on the phrases until he could recite it exactly. But the rings! Hartagil crafted not one, but two betrothal rings for us! It was that second ring, wrought of sheen-steel and a ruby setting, for which I fumbled through the folds of my gown to give the response - and being so flustered, I forgot myself and replied in Sindarin: I ind nîn ben ind gîn. Na veth min în, bestathanc. {My will is like your will. At the end of one year, we shall wed.}
Here, I must make note of something more in keeping with the goal of this study: for Cutch and I had discussed in great detail the comparative parallels between Elven customs and customs among Mortals, Men in particular. And in wishing to do me courtesy and honor, he wanted to follow Elvish lore as closely as he could manage; and thus he conspired with Hartagil. As she is my only living relative, Hartagil stood as my house, and took Cutch's petition into counsel. After assuring Cutch could provide for a family, she gave him her blessing, fashioned the rings, and made certain the betrothal recital would take place at the Opening Ball (that conniving wench, I love her all the more).
The Ball and the Betrothal are now two days past. The company took their leave one by one, leaving only a few close friends to guest overnight. Cutch slept at a neighbor's house, having tried and failed to keep pace with an Elvish revel far into the night; my poor dear one having exhausted himself with the labors of the feast and the excitement of the revels. But tonight - and now, every night after - I hear the soft breathing of my own bespoken Mortal coming from my own chamber. He knows full well that we are betrothed, not married, and the marriage act is not his to take as of now; but as I told him, for my part I do not wish to be parted from him, and we shall share a chamber in rest and comfort. For as it is, we already share our hearts, and for an Elf that is enough.
The ring interferes with writing. I must get used to this - but as I am now betrothed, it is but one more new thing to study. I shall now retire - to my beloved's side.
Next Entry: On the Nature of Elven Wines