Prompt: 045. I never thought that this day would ever come; when your words and your touch just struck me numb
Author's note: Tolkien owns everything. Lalaith's birth and death day are not given, but we know that she was born three years after Túrin. Since we know that Túrin was born in 463 FA, a little bit of maths gives Lalaith's life from 466 to 468. (Yes, I am that geeky.)
The common folk buried their dead near a copse outside the town, but that would not do for their daughter. They laid Lalaith to rest next to the stream that bore her name, on a cold day in autumn when the rain poured out in torrents from the sky. Although her clothes dripped and her black hair was plastered to her head, Morwen did not heed it. Neither did Húrin.
The people came bearing the last flowers of the season to adorn his daughter's tomb, but they soon retreated in the onslaught of the deluge. Húrin blinked away the raindrops that threatened to run into his eyes, and focused on the marks freshly cut into the stone. Perhaps if he read the words enough times, he would believe them.
Urwen, called Lalaith
Daughter of Húrin Thalion, Lord of Dor-lómin, and Morwen Eledhwen of Dorthonion
Born in the year 466, died in the year 468 of the First Age
His daughter's life, condensed into three lines of runes. The inscription did not say that she was a restless sleeper, or that her hair was golden like his own, but her nose was entirely her mother's. It did not say that she loved to ride on the shoulders of anyone who would bear her, or that her favourite possession was a faded red blanket. The runes told of her name and lineage, but nothing of her spirit.
Remembering her life, then, was the task of the living. They stood vigil together as the sun set and darkness fell, and between the rain and the river, there was no need to speak.
