Twilight Conversation
Dear Silwen,
Eldarion and I have arrived back in the palace. It is too late now to see you, and as I do not feel like myself our meeting may be delayed longer than tomorrow.
Tonight, shortly after sunset, I was sitting on my balcony. Below me all was grey with early twilight and the birds were all singing farewell to each other. Then I saw my mother and father walking together in the courtyard. Perhaps I should have gone inside, but I didn't desire to do so. The air is so lovely that time of day; it makes me comfortable. So I stayed.
I heard them talking. Their voices, though soft, were carried clearly to me on the gentle breeze. At first I tried not to overhear their conversation, but before I realized it I was listening intently. They were speaking of me.
"Why would she appear different, Estel?" I heard my mother ask.
"You have noticed no change in her behavior, no alteration in her appearance or conversation?" he asked.
"None at all. Yet I have not looked for any."
"Tiro," he said. "Look."
Instinctively I looked, too. He held in his hand a small piece of paper. My mother leaned against his shoulder and read it. She seemed startled -- in her soft, elven way. She took it and stared at it intently for some time.
She spoke again, this time lower. "Where did you find this?"
"On the mantel at Evendim. It is Arwing's handwriting."
I knew then it must be the poem Huinlas sent me. Remember, Silwen? I mailed a copy to you.
"How does Arwing come to own such a verse?" she asked.
"It is hard to say. Though I found a letter from her among the belongings of Faramir's daughter which gives an answer, though one which opens more questions. Arwing said she received a poem from Huinlas, Legolas's son."
"I know who Huinlas is, meldalin. There is no need to specify. He was here long before you were born."
"Did you know they were corresponding to one another?"
"No, I did not."
There was silence for a few minutes. Did I say silence? If you consider the volume of my heartbeat silence...
"Do you know what this poem is, Estel?"
"I have the framework of an idea."
My mother began to chant in elvish. Here is a rough translation into the common tongue. Once she began to speak the words rang in my head and would not leave, even now I hear her voice forming each syllable.
"Two shall bear the silver rings,
Rings of shining mithril.
Of the Eldar shall they be,
The blood of elves shall flow through them.
Both of the north, both of the south;
Anor their heritage, Gondor their home.
Of kingly lineage both,
For who but kings can bear these burdens?
Together guarding their land;
Side by side governing from the shadows.
Protecting from evil.
The Valar shall be with them;
Elbereth their hope, Manwe their guide.
Hidden from the world;
Disguised from the eyes of men.
Invisible.
Two lives forever bonded by bands
Of silver.
Seven stones set in a silver sea,
Calling.
And seven answering."
"They speak in harmony, then?" asked my father.
"The verses? Yes. They are one and the same."
"How does Huinlas know of this?"
Mother Arwen turned to face him, for as she chanted the lay her eyes had looked far away. "Is he not of the Eldar, as I am? Any elven child could repeat these verses if requested."
"My children cannot."
"Our children," she corrected.
"Yes, vanimelda," he said.
"Your children do not know the life of the Eldar. Why should they be troubled with that which is beyond their reach?"
"Arwen!" he said, acting alarmed. "Our son could recite any lay or poem or ballad if once you told it to him."
"But why should he sing of immortality's complications? He should not be expected --"
Here Father hushed her. "We are straying from the topic at hand. You have made jest of it. Now tell me your true feelings, for mine are not so jovial."
"Plainly?"
"Impeccably so."
"I believe Huinlas must have one of the rings, and he supposes Arwing possesses the other."
"Impossible!"
"How so?"
He struggled for an answer. "My daughter shall not be subject to the bondage of a Ring!"
"Calm yourself, Estel."
"You would ask me to be calm?"
"I have done so."
With effort he regained his composure. "What shall be done?"
"Nothing."
He echoed her.
"We can do nothing. We do not yet know for certain the validity of my assumptions."
He nodded his head slowly.
"We can only hope for the best," she said.
"While there is yet hope," he answered.
"There is always hope."
Then they walked beyond hearing distance from my position.
I have written to you so I may speak to another of these thoughts now surging through my mind. I feel so lost; indeed, I nearly feel ill.
Mellonlín,
Arwing
Quiz #2
What is the Elvish translation of the name Huinlas?
A: royal/noble leaf
B: brilliant/shining leaf
C: dark/gloomy leaf
Dear Silwen,
Eldarion and I have arrived back in the palace. It is too late now to see you, and as I do not feel like myself our meeting may be delayed longer than tomorrow.
Tonight, shortly after sunset, I was sitting on my balcony. Below me all was grey with early twilight and the birds were all singing farewell to each other. Then I saw my mother and father walking together in the courtyard. Perhaps I should have gone inside, but I didn't desire to do so. The air is so lovely that time of day; it makes me comfortable. So I stayed.
I heard them talking. Their voices, though soft, were carried clearly to me on the gentle breeze. At first I tried not to overhear their conversation, but before I realized it I was listening intently. They were speaking of me.
"Why would she appear different, Estel?" I heard my mother ask.
"You have noticed no change in her behavior, no alteration in her appearance or conversation?" he asked.
"None at all. Yet I have not looked for any."
"Tiro," he said. "Look."
Instinctively I looked, too. He held in his hand a small piece of paper. My mother leaned against his shoulder and read it. She seemed startled -- in her soft, elven way. She took it and stared at it intently for some time.
She spoke again, this time lower. "Where did you find this?"
"On the mantel at Evendim. It is Arwing's handwriting."
I knew then it must be the poem Huinlas sent me. Remember, Silwen? I mailed a copy to you.
"How does Arwing come to own such a verse?" she asked.
"It is hard to say. Though I found a letter from her among the belongings of Faramir's daughter which gives an answer, though one which opens more questions. Arwing said she received a poem from Huinlas, Legolas's son."
"I know who Huinlas is, meldalin. There is no need to specify. He was here long before you were born."
"Did you know they were corresponding to one another?"
"No, I did not."
There was silence for a few minutes. Did I say silence? If you consider the volume of my heartbeat silence...
"Do you know what this poem is, Estel?"
"I have the framework of an idea."
My mother began to chant in elvish. Here is a rough translation into the common tongue. Once she began to speak the words rang in my head and would not leave, even now I hear her voice forming each syllable.
"Two shall bear the silver rings,
Rings of shining mithril.
Of the Eldar shall they be,
The blood of elves shall flow through them.
Both of the north, both of the south;
Anor their heritage, Gondor their home.
Of kingly lineage both,
For who but kings can bear these burdens?
Together guarding their land;
Side by side governing from the shadows.
Protecting from evil.
The Valar shall be with them;
Elbereth their hope, Manwe their guide.
Hidden from the world;
Disguised from the eyes of men.
Invisible.
Two lives forever bonded by bands
Of silver.
Seven stones set in a silver sea,
Calling.
And seven answering."
"They speak in harmony, then?" asked my father.
"The verses? Yes. They are one and the same."
"How does Huinlas know of this?"
Mother Arwen turned to face him, for as she chanted the lay her eyes had looked far away. "Is he not of the Eldar, as I am? Any elven child could repeat these verses if requested."
"My children cannot."
"Our children," she corrected.
"Yes, vanimelda," he said.
"Your children do not know the life of the Eldar. Why should they be troubled with that which is beyond their reach?"
"Arwen!" he said, acting alarmed. "Our son could recite any lay or poem or ballad if once you told it to him."
"But why should he sing of immortality's complications? He should not be expected --"
Here Father hushed her. "We are straying from the topic at hand. You have made jest of it. Now tell me your true feelings, for mine are not so jovial."
"Plainly?"
"Impeccably so."
"I believe Huinlas must have one of the rings, and he supposes Arwing possesses the other."
"Impossible!"
"How so?"
He struggled for an answer. "My daughter shall not be subject to the bondage of a Ring!"
"Calm yourself, Estel."
"You would ask me to be calm?"
"I have done so."
With effort he regained his composure. "What shall be done?"
"Nothing."
He echoed her.
"We can do nothing. We do not yet know for certain the validity of my assumptions."
He nodded his head slowly.
"We can only hope for the best," she said.
"While there is yet hope," he answered.
"There is always hope."
Then they walked beyond hearing distance from my position.
I have written to you so I may speak to another of these thoughts now surging through my mind. I feel so lost; indeed, I nearly feel ill.
Mellonlín,
Arwing
Quiz #2
What is the Elvish translation of the name Huinlas?
A: royal/noble leaf
B: brilliant/shining leaf
C: dark/gloomy leaf