Challenge: Write a story, poem, or create an artwork from the point of view of a character who is drunk or otherwise under the influence.
Extracts from Erestor's journal upon the continuing distressing events:
In the week that has passed since Elrond bid the Lady CelebrÃan farewell before she sailed, and his silent return from the Havens, I have seen him but once. It disturbs me, and yet I would not willingly intrude on his privacy, to disrespect the grief that he wears. A week though... I wonder, if it is too long, too long for him to remain in his study, blocked from the rest of the world. Tomorrow, if I hear nothing otherwise, I feel it is my duty on his behalf to intervene. This cannot continue, no matter how hard her sailing is to accept.
***
It was with great hesitancy that I dared to disturb the Lord Elrond, but I see now that it was a good thing that I had. It is not the Call, as I had feared, that keeps Elrond locked in his study, but a condition much worse, if such a state could exist. When he did not respond to my knock as he used to, I forced the lock and entered to find him half laying against the wall below the window. The only window that looks west, as I realized a moment later in growing dread. It was easy to tell that he had not moved from that position for some time, his robes usually straightened and crisp now limp and crumpled around him.
On the desk a short distance away I noticed a bottle, and thought I knew what Elrond had done, but closer inspection disproved that thought in a moment. He had not touched the sweet wine, a thought that only added to my deepening concern. A gentle shake of his shoulder seemed to focus his attention for a short time, a certainly welcome sign.
"Erestor..." he murmured.
"Yes, Elrond? What is it?"
"Why can't I sail?"
I responded quietly, carefully treading into dangerous waters. "You are needed here yet, you know that, Elrond."
He looked at me for a long moment, his expression taught and closed. "Why?"
"You promised to watch your brother's line... would you do so as your father does- from a distance that cannot be crossed? They need you, here and now."
When he looked about to protest, I forestalled him with a raised hand. "Hear me out, my friend. You know this things in your heart, whether you choose to listen to it or not. The White Council-"
At his hissed intake I paused, but quickly continued. "Yes, I know of it. They need you, and your knowledge. You represent a time long gone, and the wisdom that only you could bring. And, if that is not enough the Ring you bear."
I knew I had his complete attention with that statement. It was the most obvious reference to Vilya that I had ever dared to use, and it served it's purpose well. "There is no one that I would trust to wear it besides the other bearers. Elrond, listen to wisdom. If not for these... for your own children! Elladan and Elrohir, and Arwen. Go to them, and grieve together. You will heal the hurts inside if you do."
I waited, wondering at his response. He seemed pull himself together, and I waited anxiously as he slowly stood before contemplating the window.
"Thank you, Erestor," he said, turning from the western view after a long moment. "Thank you for telling me what I did not want to hear."
"Only doing what is necessary, my friend." I replied, eying the full bottle on the desk. "If I may borrow your wine... ?"
Elrond nodded, only paying half attention. I poured two glasses before pressing one into his hand, then raised my own in salute to the west, to Celebrian. "To CelebrÃan's recovery and peace," I murmured as Elrond echoed me. Then, I turned to him, a hand on his shoulder. "To new beginnings for those that remain in this tainted land."