Celoslind, twice all but crumbling, third time reforged

Naergon turns pages of all but crumbling parchment with care and he frowns in dissbelief, charmed by the old story that came his way, inspiring, soothing, mysterios and timeless. A story of love, loss, fate and remembrance. A stroy that worths being heard, and dreamed about, again.


"My name is Melliria. I am historian and poet and I found my home in the new-founded Imladris, may our peace here last until the end of time. I have now the  time and peace to take upon a project dear to me, translating an old story that I found many years ago during troubled times, on all but crumbling pages, sealed between silver and gold covers of old and intricate making. How long they stayed there I do not know and the story of how I and my friends uncovered them worths telling another time for itself, but the beauty and sadness of it bound me to do all in my power to keep it alive and part of our history on this shores. It has no name, I shall call it Celoslind – The song of the tiny spring"


"My name is Tyelalalmë and I take upon me an oath of writing the story of Meldaini and of her river far away, a story worthy of her, worthy of me, worthy to be sung and remembered when the memory of our kin living here shall be thinner than morning mist vanquished by mid-day sun. For that is the way of life, that mid-day follows dawn and dusk follows them both.

Long is the time that passed over the mountains and plains of this world since then, lost is to me the road to our place of happiness and song, nearer is my road into the West, a road covered by a mist that will never fade. But before the last breeze of this world straightens our sails and drifts my boat towards the ends of the endless sea, I will sing to you once more about her, about the past, about times that are now legend to all but a few that still walk this shores..."