I am not now what I once was. An *elda* with a past that once lived. A child of Man, heroic of heart and temper.

I fade like a memory. I belong to an illusion.

So I take my music in my harp. I carry my thought in the quill in my palm. I nurse my love. I hold them all that come of me and not of the past that runs twice along my red and red blood. The blood flows it's course; I mine.

That which I am, I am. And I will not let go of it.