Of My Elvish Names

I once was Duinhiril, simply the river maiden of a time after all things that where eternal and beautiful. Before a dark cloud of anew rose from the hands of the earth and shrouded what was to last. But alas, when we speak of that name it cannot be so!

I fear this dark void has filled the lightened corners of my spirit. I feel so dark with the feeling of insignificance in me. What I am to my "Friends", I know not.

I name myself Morwaen Turambar, as long as this darkness will last.

I roam the fields of converse and entertainment and with avail I give in, but in the end I still remember, and unfortunately remember, I am still Morwaen Turambar. In the light of day and the dark of what is night, I remain: Black-stained Master of Doom.

I listen to wiser bearings than of those I have tried to seek. I call but I hesitate and withdraw from them. The tears that I had tried hard to put away, the tears that I didn't want to keep, they find their way to my skin.

So I name myself Ninael, as long as my rains will fall.

Strong rains make me stronger. My eyes be blinded with the sea but my mind is cleared with wisdom and understanding. It drowns me with a wave of sorrow but I swim through it and earn a place in clearer pools. So I am Ninael, Tear Lake.

I arise from a wave of doubt. No longer do I live to the leisure of others. I stand on my own and under my own sky. It is mine alone and only I can pilot its course. A renewed light shines as my sun and the stars are my watchers from a distant plane of the universe.

And I became Elenthor Telcontar, as long as I have my skies.

It is a new beginning. The time for my darkness to remove has come. Though I will still be named Morwaen Turambar a new dawn has brandished its letters. I am Elenthor Telcontar: Eagle Star to the House of Strider; A bright wing reborn from the shadows that will learn the independence of walking alone.

And my list does not stop here. I will bring up a name that will fill in what I lack, but what I wish to obtain. I need a strong will to endure the wrath of the dark lands. And it will only come when I will myself to let it in and become a part of me. And I hope that soon, it would not be a name –it would be a part of me. And imprinted in history shall it be done.

Soon will rise Angbereth Degilthalion. Maethor a firieth i thilia ar aglar im.