DAY IS FADING
My dear Arwing,
How good to hear from you! We have finally reached Eregion. I was right, it took seven days.
Huinlas's distant cousin is rather nice. Somewhat fat for an elf and shorter than I'm used to, but nonetheless a nice fellow. Same dreamy, preoccupied nature. I mean, seriously, they spent a quarter of an hour discussing the mist that is so prevalent in this area!
Also waiting here were letters from Mother. She wrote that she and Théodwyn have returned to Ithilien, while Barahir and Gildor stayed behind at Edoras. Barahir and Elfwine are planning to set off together for Dol Amroth to talk to the King and send word to Lothiriel Queen. Apparently, and understandably, she longs to hear from her family and has not had word for some time.
How inquisitive you are in your last letter! Almost as bad as I am, except I ask questions myself and snoop around to discover the answers instead of bothering to ask others. But, of course, most of my inquisitions are pointed at the said elf traveling with us, and so are yours. I have the advantage to the answers since I am with him and you are not. That didn't sound snobby, did it?
Your father mention you? Truly, I wouldn't know. I was not in on the conversations of the high people (i.e. your father, my father, and my uncle). Huinlas was, though. But of course I cannot ask him if he heard of you. He always becomes silent and thoughtful when I mention you. He gets a questioning look in his eyes, as if he is searching for something but knows not for what he searches. This puzzles me, but then, much puzzles me so I'll leave it alone.
Ah, Fangorn. Yes, we passed though a part of it. Quite a beautiful place. Boromir disliked it, saying it made him uneasy. But I found it peaceful and close and comforting, like being held in an embrace. Huinlas was virtually speechless with delight. I could see how much he loves the woods. He was born among trees and ever will he love them, I am sure. I share a similar love for aged woods, they are my home.
Huinlas's horse is enchanting. During the day it is a soft, feathery grey, but at night under the moonlight his coat shines silver and white. Celebrion is his name. Very fitting, don't you think? Miss I'm-Studying- Quenya.
Actually, it just happens that I'm learning Sindarian, though not in the official way you are. Huinlas has taken it upon himself to teach me and Boromir his native tongue. He talks now only in Sindarian, which does make it rather necessary for us to learn quickly, considering he is our guide. He is also helpful, like this: (pointing to a leaf) "Las!" (pointing to a star) "Gil!" (pointing to himself) "Edhel!" So yes, I am learning.
Huinlas was please you liked his poem. He didn't tell me this, I just saw it in his face. I think it was the first time he's seen your name and not gotten that queer look on his face. He seemed to be ignoring it. For while his face was relaxed, I could see a struggle in his eyes. Is there something about you you're not telling? Like I think you're hiding anything from me! Really, Silwen, how rude!
The day is waning again and I must end this letter.
Mellonlín, Silwen
Once again, from Huinlas:
Day is fading, dusk deepens, Where sings the Nightingale? Night approaches, shadows lengthen, Have you seen the stars awake? Daylight tires, breathing quivers, Is a smile upon your face? Rest is nearing, starlight shimmers, Do you yearn for daylight's fail? In the gloaming, gently flowing Comes the longed for, blessed grey.
PS (Once again, I seriously don't get the poetry, but it is lovely, don't you think?) Send your next letter to Buckland, we hear the Halflings eagerly await us.
[DID YOU LIKE THIS LETTER? PLEASE REVIEW!]
My dear Arwing,
How good to hear from you! We have finally reached Eregion. I was right, it took seven days.
Huinlas's distant cousin is rather nice. Somewhat fat for an elf and shorter than I'm used to, but nonetheless a nice fellow. Same dreamy, preoccupied nature. I mean, seriously, they spent a quarter of an hour discussing the mist that is so prevalent in this area!
Also waiting here were letters from Mother. She wrote that she and Théodwyn have returned to Ithilien, while Barahir and Gildor stayed behind at Edoras. Barahir and Elfwine are planning to set off together for Dol Amroth to talk to the King and send word to Lothiriel Queen. Apparently, and understandably, she longs to hear from her family and has not had word for some time.
How inquisitive you are in your last letter! Almost as bad as I am, except I ask questions myself and snoop around to discover the answers instead of bothering to ask others. But, of course, most of my inquisitions are pointed at the said elf traveling with us, and so are yours. I have the advantage to the answers since I am with him and you are not. That didn't sound snobby, did it?
Your father mention you? Truly, I wouldn't know. I was not in on the conversations of the high people (i.e. your father, my father, and my uncle). Huinlas was, though. But of course I cannot ask him if he heard of you. He always becomes silent and thoughtful when I mention you. He gets a questioning look in his eyes, as if he is searching for something but knows not for what he searches. This puzzles me, but then, much puzzles me so I'll leave it alone.
Ah, Fangorn. Yes, we passed though a part of it. Quite a beautiful place. Boromir disliked it, saying it made him uneasy. But I found it peaceful and close and comforting, like being held in an embrace. Huinlas was virtually speechless with delight. I could see how much he loves the woods. He was born among trees and ever will he love them, I am sure. I share a similar love for aged woods, they are my home.
Huinlas's horse is enchanting. During the day it is a soft, feathery grey, but at night under the moonlight his coat shines silver and white. Celebrion is his name. Very fitting, don't you think? Miss I'm-Studying- Quenya.
Actually, it just happens that I'm learning Sindarian, though not in the official way you are. Huinlas has taken it upon himself to teach me and Boromir his native tongue. He talks now only in Sindarian, which does make it rather necessary for us to learn quickly, considering he is our guide. He is also helpful, like this: (pointing to a leaf) "Las!" (pointing to a star) "Gil!" (pointing to himself) "Edhel!" So yes, I am learning.
Huinlas was please you liked his poem. He didn't tell me this, I just saw it in his face. I think it was the first time he's seen your name and not gotten that queer look on his face. He seemed to be ignoring it. For while his face was relaxed, I could see a struggle in his eyes. Is there something about you you're not telling? Like I think you're hiding anything from me! Really, Silwen, how rude!
The day is waning again and I must end this letter.
Mellonlín, Silwen
Once again, from Huinlas:
Day is fading, dusk deepens, Where sings the Nightingale? Night approaches, shadows lengthen, Have you seen the stars awake? Daylight tires, breathing quivers, Is a smile upon your face? Rest is nearing, starlight shimmers, Do you yearn for daylight's fail? In the gloaming, gently flowing Comes the longed for, blessed grey.
PS (Once again, I seriously don't get the poetry, but it is lovely, don't you think?) Send your next letter to Buckland, we hear the Halflings eagerly await us.
[DID YOU LIKE THIS LETTER? PLEASE REVIEW!]