Elloen

There are a few odd blotches here and there, as from tears.

My dearest Elloen,

I craved -- no, I coveted -- to be the subject of your brush. And now I have been. I never dreamed that the sketches you made of me would lead to such majesty. I am afraid I was so overwhelmed this evening that I could not find my words properly -- what would the scholars and scribes say, if they knew? Yet are there words for the kind of likeness you are capable of?

14 June

My only love,

I have blinked, and five years have passed since I held your hröa in my arms, long after your fëa had sped to Mandos. 

It makes me happy to imagine that Lord Ulmo pulled the blue rose given me by hiril Gilinnen, mother of Elvealin, and which I set on top of the surf at Lindon, along the Straight Road until it came to the shores of the Blessed Lands, and to think that there it came to your hand. For you would know at once who sent it and what it meant.

Sprained. The ankle was most definitely sprained. Manadhlaer, Lady of the Houses of Healing, handled the swollen, empurpled joint herself with long fingers, probing the Arrow's leg as delicately as possible. "Filegris," the imposing Telerë asked her reclining patient, "how ever did you strain every tendon at once?

Ah, Diary. I neglect you... but there are so many patients of late, and so little ink. I believe that Norliriel's cat steps in my blasted inkwell out of choice, that it too might leave its mark on the thin parchment we use for reports and requisitions... quite a few marks, forcing me to rewrite a complete monthly report to Lady Danel (who is also away travelling, but Manadhlaer of the Houses files her reports on time, cat or no cat) from scratch. Thus the second of two requisitions put in. I let young Cuillidir fill out the one for alfirin. Ai!

Oh, Diary! You will never guess who finally came back to our weekly gatherings in the Hall of Fire! It is my dear friend Mirineth, she whose presence used to be indispensible at these gatherings, she who went around to every new-comer and called them brother or sister, and made them feel welcome. She also introduced me to some warriors, one of whom always pestered her to dance, saying that he could support her in such a way that none would notice her wound...

Elvealin knocked on the door of her parent's house in Lothlórien, wondering if they were home. Her father opened the door with a smile but also with a look of a surprise, since her presence in the Golden Wood was unannounced. But there was no doubt that they were happy to see her.