Anneth has long clung to her dreams, though sorrow has threatened to murder them again and again. There was a time when sorrow made her hopes only sweeter, but as Sauron grows yet stronger in the East, she feels everything she has ever held dear fal...
It was love that drove Voronwe that day to tell Lindeth, his betrothed, that he was to march with the army of Gil-galad to Mordor, the heart of evil. He did not wish to speak a word of it to her, for in his mind, he easily could conjure the expression she would give him, the total hopelessness and desperation that would worm its way into her heart. To see her broken would cause him pain, but his other option would cause them both more pain.
If he should speak not to her and perish in the war amidst the great conflict and struggle, Voronwe only could imagine the betrayal she would face, and how her hope then would lessen further. She was all he longed for then, and he would fight in this war for her, to be reunited with her again and claim her as his wife for all eternity.
With reluctance he told her, and she wept, yet he knew that if he had kept it from her, her tears would have been far more numerous, and it would be long before she could again trust his words fully.
In this dark time they had realised their love, and it was a thing that they both clung to as Sauron readied himself for war and the elves and men also.
Their love served as a glimmer of hope in the midst of despondency and the murky dark of evil.
And such true love, in its various forms, that so many know, is what brings perseverance and dedication to the hearts and minds of all.
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In all my recent 'epiphanies,' as one might call them, I have understood how my heart would bring a stain to Legolas. If he did love me, how then would those in Mirkwood feel, that their prince left and returned with an elleth of no high standing, of whom none know of.
But surely there will be no need for these worries if I am made positive that my love was only an imagination that was created by my own mind and conjured by the aching yearning of my heart. This aching yearning that has not left and become only stronger since two nights past, when it was clear to me that Nana was correct, and I came to know that I did not merely wish for a friendship with the prince.
Hopeless it seems, yet I cannot help but offer myself hope and feel as though it is too real to be only an imagined thing. It hurts me to be aware that he does not know I love him, and he would never even think of loving me, and still I cannot stop my heart from longing for him. There is naught in me that longs not to love him any longer, for I do not want to cease to love him, nor do I wish to forget what I have found.
It would take a wondrous act of Eru himself to bring us together, and I am aware of how completely delusional and idiotic I sound, but I hold a hope that it is possible he could love me. 'Tis a small hope, foolish and laughable, but I cling to it childishly, without wisdom.
I have not told Nana yet and I wait for her to ask me of it; I do not seek to begin talk of this myself.
But keeping this knowledge in does not serve to assist me, only causes me to be nervous somehow, that my secret be unveiled. And Legolas told me 'tis good that I seek advice from my mother, and that I will do. Slowly I make my way from my bedroom to the sitting room where so often my mother is found.
