6.
spring, 462
Well, it is done. We are married, consecrated and sworn and united in body. I will, out of common politeness and respect for my beloved, not elaborate overmuch on this last item, only to say that it adds to my concerns about divulging our relationship--the curiosities others may have concerning the matter. Such things are not much spoken of much among our people, though I cannot comment on practice. There is much we have had to learn for ourselves. Maedhros takes a grim humor in using the Men of his land as an example; they are not faithful as we are, and their men will sometimes satisfy their desires in such ways. I do not know if any of them are like us, drawn by affection as well as desire. It makes for a strange parallel, and though we know we are not like them, the commonalities trouble us a little. Anyway, to put it bluntly, I would rather not have the whole host of Hithlum wondering about the things that go on in my bedchamber.
Yet no one has noticed a difference in us, or if they have, they have not spoken. Truly, there is no one here close enough to me that would concern themselves with such a change; counselors and captains are not apt to ask questions about a king's personal business. So many who were dear to me, who would have seen it, are dead. I do not know yet if we will speak of it to anyone. It is not fear that stays our speech so much as practicality; the waters of our time need no more troubling.
But all this is unimportant, trivial. Perhaps I am still a little afraid of using words to express what has befallen. Has there ever been a word beautiful enough to match the beauty and fragility and peril of what we have found? I have loved him and do love him. He is my beloved, and I his. And now we two are something beyond duality, beyond mere relation.
Two trees, silver and gold, blend into a single light. Then light fades, and again they are simply themselves. How can so few letters express the weight of such a universe?