2
Prologue
4th age, Year 4583
The slow drip of the water clock provided a rhythmic song that was underscored by the distant sounds of a contented household, the muted sounds of pots and pans as dinner was being made in the kitchen down the hallway, the perfume of that promised meal wafting down said hallway and only to fill the study with its heady aroma reminding him that yes, he had forgotten to have lunch. This contentment was shown in the whisper of the curtains, ones his beloved wife had chosen and made herself, as they fluttered and danced in the playful twilight breeze. The teasing scent of roses rich and seductive, his wife's pride and joy, which filled the garden outside of his study window. And beyond that was the thread of life that filled air, people murmuring in quiet conversation as they passed by, the occasional clop, clop, clop of a horse and rider making their way to their unknown and ultimate destination, the clear murmur of a singer, remote and hypnotic, singing in a language once thought long dead. The long carrying whistle of the dwarven express as it steamed through the mountains, promising it that would be soon pulling into the station. He contemplated all that his senses could hear and smell and see and sighed, a rich, long, deep sound that spoke of a happiness that he had not known had existed before. Life was good.
As he sorted out his thoughts, as the day began to yield to the soft tides of night and the sun commenced its graceful descent in the west, one by one the dwarven crystal lamps that filled the house began to flicker and turn on. Finally he leaned forward and carefully picked up his silver stylus, dipping its point delicately in the inkwell before beginning to put his thoughts to paper, ever the scholar that he was.
It is hard to believe that a full year and some has actually passed! So much has changed in that time; so much has come to pass and yet for better or for worse none may say! But the city is busy now, bustling with life as more and more people find their way home. Home. A word we so often take for granted do we not? A word that I had taken for granted until my eyes were opened and I saw the truth at last.
I have learned so many things in the last year. Some good, some bad as can be expected but all of it something that I have learned from and been enriched by. I have learned to never take things or people for granted, my adored wife, the support and loyalty of good friends like Tegwen and Perren. I have learned to never take things at face value, always look beyond what is given for there is one will find the truth, for good or ill. I have learned to trust my own instincts and that of Feaelin. Lastly, I have learned to my sorrow that no one, no mortal, no god is infallible.
If someone had told me then what I know now, I plainly would have thought them mad and yet . . .
"I knew I would find you in here." Feaelin's light, amused words easily broke through the spell that contentment and his own thoughts had woven. "Dinner, sir, is ready, and if you don't come now, I dare say neither Perren or Tegwen will leave you so much as a crumb." She teased.
Arthainedir looked up from the foolscap laid out before him even as his hand was reaching toward the inkwell and absently looked over the rim of his reading spectacles.
"Hmm? Oh, I'm sorry, my love. What did you say?"
Feaelin laughed and shook her head. "You would forget where your head was if it wasn't attached! I said, dinner is ready and after skipping lunch again, I thought I'd find you gnawing at the desk."
His pale gray eyes gleamed with gentle amusement. "Not quite, but I'll admit I am a bit peckish as Perren is fond of saying."
Feaelin offered him a strong, slender hand. "Then come, before there's nothing left for either one us." She smiled.