Sonata in Blue
Prelude: Dolce
So many memories had been seen by his eyes, so many Ages. They showed through the layers and tones of the depths of his soul, visible only by the onslaught of silence and his thoughts. There was an eternal sadness about him, but then there always had been with the Firstborn: beneath their fair exteriors and aloof demeanors, no Elf was immune to a certain amount of inevitable misery. Yet however much grief he must endure, he carried on, for someone very dear to him had long ago said that without grief, he would not know happiness. But that person was long since gone, passed away, and in his place was naught but a fond remembrance.
Slowly, and with a smile, he tipped his weary head to the early morning sky. It was pink-edged with the coming of day; as he reached out a hand, he could almost feel its blessed radiance spread throughout his fatigued body to warm every one of his fingertips. He savored every newborn sunbeam, every careless cloud, for he knew this morning would be his last. And here, at the end of all things, he was content at least for all his bittersweet memories…