Caras Gelebren

Ellaer, the Ring of Art, was a mere Essay of the greater Rings to come. It was weak, an echo of what was to come. One of the weakest rings, even amongst the other Essays. And yet, its crafter, Golodhmiriel cherished it as her finest masterpiece and dearest treasure. 

Is everything we set hand or thought to brought only to ruin? Does that include ourselves? How long does the curse, the doom laid upon our folk reach? Is there ever forgiveness? 

Estarfin seems to believe he will never be forgiven for his part in two kinslayings. Danel has other ideas. 

"I would not call you a fool, but it is foolish to have hope" he says.

They both find solace in the stars. 

These past three years I have increasingly wandered from Mithlond to the old lands, wherein I dwelt. As oft came to pass, my feet were drawn to Eregion, though this day and finally, to the ruins of Caras Gelebren. These memories hold me ever into the past. Would that I could live more in the now. But is it not part of the nature of my kind to live much in memory?

No matter. I head back towards Gwingris. May it be I stop for a night or two at Echad Eregion and remember something less sorrowful.