A Lake In Mourning

A grey fog hung over the waters of twilight, in the days of Aranarion's return. Annuminas was liberated, and the water lightly receded as if preparing for a tumultuous wave. The sun had long since faded and the sky now matched the dusk for which the fields of Evendim were named. A small wooden boat was moored against Tinnudir’s dock. Aranarion stepped into it, as it creaked back and forth atop the black water with only specks of white that reflect the stars. The moon could be seen across the water, facing west. Aranarion sailed towards it, the moonlight shining his face through the fog on the blackest of nights. He wore a dour expression, one devoid of emotion. The boat creaked as it glided across the still waters of nenuial, and eventually he did reach a waterfall in the hills of twilight. He moored his boat and stepped out onto cold mossy rock, beaten for centuries by lake water. He waded through puddles, and stepped through the waterfall, to a dark dimly lit cave. He lit no torch, but followed only his heart and the dim lights around the tunnel. He reached an open wet cave, in which rested the heart of nenuial, a beautiful being embodying the love of this land of kings of distant past. Aranarion bowed before her slowly, enamoured by her presence. His eyes betrayed him a look of grief and he spoke only the words ‘Calenglad has died in battle’. The maiden did not betray emotion, for he doubted that it could feel anything. He doubted that she was a being at all, in his mind. He felt an immense loss in his heart, simply being within this place, which seemed to grow colder. The maiden never spoke, but he felt within his heart an immense pity, as he left upon his boat. And soon after he left, it began to rain. It rained for three nights straight, without a break. All now felt the loss of Calenglad. The sky never opened with sun, nor did the land smile upon them. In the heart of the men and the land, it felt as if a piece of them each had been lost.