Suspense and Stitchery
Dear Silwen,
Why were you unable to write what next took place? Is something wrong that you do not wish to write, or to tell me? You have left me hanging in suspense.
Your brother, Barahir is now here in the city. He has taken it upon himself to sit with me every afternoon and talk, though I know not why he does this. He talks nothing of his trip to Dol Amroth. While he talks I continue work on the dress I have begun sewing for myself. I have progressed quite far on it now, and it finally begins to look like a dress. It is the color of the twilight when the stars have come out, for there is a silver outline on the neckline, wrists, and hem.
I have not been able to speak with Mother Arwen often, for she had the baby. She is a girl, and so pretty. She is such a sweet child. Eldarion can talk of nothing but how wonderful she is, and how much they look alike. This is only because they both look like their father. They both have dark, wavy hair and sea grey eyes. When she cries Mother sings to her elven songs. I love hearing her sing; she had not done so since my father left in the summer. Mother wishes not to name her until he returns.
I spend much time in my room. There I am able to get away from all of the visitors who come to see the baby. Here I sit, with Tinwe's fastly growing kittens upon my lap, writing you this letter.
Barahir is knocking at my door. No doubt he would like to talk again.
Mellonlín,
Arwing of the White Tree
Dear Silwen,
Why were you unable to write what next took place? Is something wrong that you do not wish to write, or to tell me? You have left me hanging in suspense.
Your brother, Barahir is now here in the city. He has taken it upon himself to sit with me every afternoon and talk, though I know not why he does this. He talks nothing of his trip to Dol Amroth. While he talks I continue work on the dress I have begun sewing for myself. I have progressed quite far on it now, and it finally begins to look like a dress. It is the color of the twilight when the stars have come out, for there is a silver outline on the neckline, wrists, and hem.
I have not been able to speak with Mother Arwen often, for she had the baby. She is a girl, and so pretty. She is such a sweet child. Eldarion can talk of nothing but how wonderful she is, and how much they look alike. This is only because they both look like their father. They both have dark, wavy hair and sea grey eyes. When she cries Mother sings to her elven songs. I love hearing her sing; she had not done so since my father left in the summer. Mother wishes not to name her until he returns.
I spend much time in my room. There I am able to get away from all of the visitors who come to see the baby. Here I sit, with Tinwe's fastly growing kittens upon my lap, writing you this letter.
Barahir is knocking at my door. No doubt he would like to talk again.
Mellonlín,
Arwing of the White Tree