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...
We cannot tell our fates, we do not know what a day shall hold, what troubles we shall encounter. 'Tis impossible to tell with great certainty what one shall see in their life. Though we might wish to know what the future shall bring us, though we long to see what the coming time will strike us with, we will not know, for there is but one who does know.
Only one, and His ways are not ours, they are higher, greater.
This Anneth was forced to remember when her father died, when his soul departed from Ennorath, never to return.
It was a principle that remained in her heart when her brother was also taken from her, a principle that would behoove us all to take into account.
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"Tomorrow morning, I depart," Laineth says, her voice seeming far away, my mind clouded.
"Yes."
"Will you bid me farewell, sister?" she asks, humour in her voice.
"Yes, I will," I reply absentmindedly.
"Are you listening to me?"
I nod. "Yes, of course."
"What is wrong?"
I shake my head. "Nothing."
She slams her fist on the dining table.
"Authiel! For goodness' sake! Will you cease these mindless answers?!" She groans in frustration." What is happening to you?"
I jump in my seat slightly, unfazed.
"Sister, what ever has gone wrong? What has gone ill?" her voice comes out gentler this time, calmer than it just was.
I am suddenly broken from my haze, meeting her eyes weakly. "Everything is wrong!" I find myself exclaiming, my back hitting the back of my chair with great force, despite the dull weakness I feel within me.
It is Laineth's turn to leap in surprise.
"You did not need to yell–"
I lose all the passion that I had put in my last words, weakly responding, "I know, forgive me, sister. Everything is wrong, Laineth, regardless of how childish it may sound."
She smiles slightly, and I slump in my seat, without strength to sit properly.
"Truthfully, I wish not to think of my departure, for I wish to go, and I must go, but I have not the desire to imagine how you might feel, Authiel."
"Oh, worry not for me, Laineth, I have long been alone," I answer, laughing quietly.
She smiles, she answers, "You have, but 'tis neither my wish or yours that you would continue to live so. And what of your prince! What–became of him."
The smile that had made its way onto my face disappears at the mention of Legolas.
"Nothing became of him, Laineth. He is merely gone now, departed with my silly fancy."
