Chapter One

I sit down at my desk and smooth the skirt of my white nightgown so I can sit more comfortably. Then I reach forward to the object laying on my desk. I move my fingers over the cover of the leather bound book. It's beautiful, marked with vines and leaves. The word "riel" is engraved into the material in gorgeous Tengwar letters. There is a sparrow in the top left corner, entangled in the foliage, and a feline that looks much like my own in the bottom right. I can tell by the articles used to create it that this particular diary is rather expensive. This actually brings a short smile to my usually downcast face. I do not care much for the price of things and it does not impress me, but the thought that my brother must have put into it warms my heart. The feeling is strange to me. I have not been happy for a while now. Years actually. Ever since the incident.

I brush my blond hair behind one of my tapered ears and open the book gently, as if it is made of glass and any sudden movements will shatter it, to the first blank page. I feel the smooth, clean, white parchment with my finger tips and smile softly to myself again. This too has become a foreign concept to me. I reach for my new quill pen – a stunning blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, red, and black feather from a bird I have never seen before – and then dip it into the open inkwell to my left. Then I begin - slowly, carefully - to write the following words.

Today is my birthday but it does not feel special. The best thing that has happened so far is my receiving of the journal that I am currently writing in and for that Legolas deserves thanks. I enjoy writing down my feelings. It diverts any possible explosions, which is very good. Explosions signify that something is bothering me, which isn't allowed. But I can't help it. My life is stressful. You would think the life of a princess would be perfect, however mine is not. Maybe it is different for other princesses.

This has been the circumstance ever since my mother and sister left. My sister perished on a trip to Imladris. Because of this, my mother, whom witnessed this and was overcome by trauma, left for the Undying Lands.

My father has since then morphed into a very serious, hot-tempered, cold king who has a taste for nothing by work. He boards himself up in his study all day, hunched over paperwork at his desk. It's awful. He's never around, not even for this milestone birthday. I turned 1000 today. It's difficult to have a father that has nothing to do with you. I sometimes wonder if it would be better for me to have no father at all. He's nonexistent anyway, so what good it he to me?

My sentinel, Gondien, is no doubt beginning to get suspicious; I should probably blow out my candle and get some sleep. Or cry myself to sleep, rather. No, I will not shed any tears anymore. My mother once told me, a long time ago, that every being with the ability to cry has been granted a select number of tears which they will cry before they finally pass away. Some have been given more and some less, but each will bring forth every last one before they die or – in the case of an elf – find their place in the Undying Lands, whether they are all shed before their final breath or during. She said that no one but Ilúvatar himself knows exactly how many he gave each of us. I write that so that I may write this; I am getting rather used to my daily burden and I believe that I cried every tear I was given a long time ago.

-Princess Haeronwen

And with that I put down my pen. However I leave the journal open so the ink will not smear. I do not want to take any chances of ruining my pristine penmanship. My handwriting took years to master and I take pride in it. It is one of the few things I happen to have left that cannot be taken from me. At least I hope.

I inhale deeply and then I place my shaking hands on the desk. Using my upper body strength I push down on the desk and get to my feet, hoisting myself up as I feel the traditional weight of grief on my shoulders. But just as I predicted no tears come. I really do believe what I wrote, that all my tears are gone.

I slip off my smooth, silver colored robe as I walk bare-foot to my bed. I hang the robe on one of the two posts at the foot of the large bed and climb into it seconds afterward. It feels empty, no longer having my twin sister to occasionally climb in beside me. Sometimes the tables would turn and it would be me who snuck across the hall into her room. We used to talk well into the night and trade stories back and forth. We would laugh, not cry, ourselves to sleep and when morning came we would go down to breakfast together, dressed in our matching nightclothes with our identical faces and smiles. A sharp pang in my chest reminds me of just how much I miss Lathronniel.

It is her birthday today too, I think mournfully, Why can't she be here?

I would gladly give everything to have her back. I would do anything to see her again, to have my mother return to us, to see my father smile again. He never smiles anymore. I miss his smile.

I do not know how long I allow my mind to wander, all I know is that at some point my cat, Celeb, a gray and black tabby with white socks, climbs onto the bed and curls up beside me. He purrs and wraps his massive white paws protectively around my left arm. His grip is tight and comforting. Eventually I drift off to sleep in his embrace, secretly wishing that I might never wake again.

Elvish Translations

Elvish word/phrase

English translation

Riel

Princess