My times are in thy hand: deliver me from the hand of mine enemies, and from them that persecute me.
- Psalm 31:15
The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.
- Mark Twain
With arms crossed rather disrespectfully, and eyes trained on a nearby bird angrily, Anneth Voronweiel pouted without shame.
She was nearing her twentieth birthday, a fact she delighted in, but still she sat like a dejected child, all for a childish and foolish reason.
It was so terribly ridiculous and foolish for her to act so, in the manner of an elfling who was lectured. Her brother walked past her, shaking his head at his sister's actions.
The royal family of Mirkwood had just arrived in Imladris, and Anneth had begged her mother to see them, but of course Lindeth rejected her request. Anneth wished to see them, for she found it exciting, and the prospect of seeing high standing elves was, she believed, deeply rooted in her heart. She found herself very angry to know that she would not set eyes on the Elvenking and his son.
Oh, it truly was horrible of her to pout so over such a minute thing, but Anneth refused to show that she knew her actions were laughable. Stubbornness had proven itself in her this day, which partly was the cause for her mother ordering her to her room, where she was to stay until even came.
In her hand Anneth held a small pebble, and in her anger and vexation, she hurled it toward her wall. It bounced off unsatisfactorily.
With sluggish movements, she walked over to the pebble and then threw it out of her window.
Truly a bore did she begin to find her incarceration, regardless of her being alone for a mere five minutes. There was naught that she found fascinating in her surroundings, for as she longed for was to see a king and his prince. 'Twas such a interesting spectacle, she thought, and her childhood dream of marrying a prince did naught to appease her growing irritation.
Soon her door was unmercifully flung open, and in walked Voronen, wearing the expression of a smug winner. He slammed the door behind him, to be met with a piercing glare from Anneth.
"What is it you want, 'Nen?" asked Anneth, anger evident in her tone.
"So, how do you enjoy the jail that is your room, Anneth?"
"Ai, close your mouth, Voronen, there is none who find joy in your remarks."
"Sour. Why are you so sour, little sister? Is it due to your missing out on seeing the Prince of Mirkwood?" He chuckled quietly, with the thought his sister heard him not. She did, and lashed out, catching his ear and twisting it.
"Nidh! Why do you find yourself so violent now? It should be beneficial for Mirkwood's prince to never set eyes on you. He would both vomit and possibly be abducted by you, for you are truly insane, sister."
"Voronen, do you know not when to close your mouth and cease from speaking?"
Her brother only laughed, poking his sister's cheek.
"'Neth, you truly are a pain. 'Tis a mercy that a true prince should never find himself wedded to you."
"I never said that I wished to marry the prince," she said, "only that I wanted to see him and his father!"
"It is likely good that you not see him, else you find him terribly handsome and speak naught of anything else but him."
She struck her brother again.
"I am only twenty. Nearly twenty. But I have yet to find a single ellon handsome, and you are utterly repulsive."
"I am not!"
"You are."
"Why does Nana wish for you not to see them?"
"I do not know. Well, besides the fact that I begged her to allow me to sit in a tree so I could see them pass by. It is, in my opinion, completely ridiculous and one of the moment I just wish to Elbereth that it was acceptable to strike parents!" she declared loudly, then upon realising what she said, clapped a hand over her mouth.
"Anneth! How utterly disrespectful!"
"Disrespectful, huh. How about right?"
"Sister, are you not going to apologise for your words?" her brother asked.
"No," came her simple reply. Her eyes caught her brother's glare. "I meant to say yes. May the Valar forgive my rude speech, may Nana and Ada be blessed, may I never think to strike them again," she said, with feigned optimism. "And may I some day see the Prince of Mirkwood and learn his name.
"You are completely ridiculous, sister. Within sixty years I wager you shall forget about this disappointment entirely, having found yourself an ellon already."
"And if I still have no husband in sixty years, then what?"
Voronen thought for a moment. "I shall cry for your hopelessly romantic dreams."
"I would be a maidservant if it meant I could catch a glimpse of this prince," she huffed.
"That could be arranged easily, dear sister," her brother snickered.
"No, it cannot, and you know so." Anneth crossed her arms across her chest. "But if it was I would do it without a thought."
"Truly?"
"Yes, I would."
"Would you vow to do such a thing? I will hold you to it, of course."
Without a thought, she answered, "Yes."
Her brother held back a laugh, failing miserably, bursting into hysterical laughter.
"Stop laughing at me, insolent ellon."
Anneth would know not how hilariously consequential this vow of hers might become.
At supper that very night, her brother relayed the contents of her promise to their parents, who too held back laughter, succeeding in masking their amusement.
"A promise is a promise, Anneth, and should a way be found to carry this out, you are obliged to become–a maid," her mother said, labouring to hold her expression of seriousness.
Her father said nothing, sitting in his place stiffly, betraying very little of his thoughts on this subject.
It never occurred to her that she should one day be forced to fulfill her promise, and she never laid awake at night wondering how she might handle the vow. In fact, the whole incident soon slipped her mind and never did she think back on it again. The relevance faded and when she did hear of it, it was spoken of in jest.
'Twas a childish promise, and when she thought of it, it caused her mental pain and she shuddered.
"Authiel!"
"Anneth, iell nin, I beseech you to remove your presence from my house and do something!" Nana yells from the kitchen.
"Nana, I have naught else to do save sit in my room and wait until adventure finds me," I reply as go I help her clean.
"Find the twins, they speak to you always," suggests she.
"They are not here."
"Where did they go this time?" she asks.
"To meet with the Prince of Mirkwood who has apparently come on an errand for his father."
She looks at me quickly, then laughs. I smile at her, for a laugh from my dear mother means much. Melancholy has she been since my father's departure, and even more so after Voronen. Her merriment is rare, and it warms my heart to see her joyful in a sort of manner.
"Do you recall your tantrum over seeing Prince Legolas many years ago?"
Colour rises to my face as I recall that horrid occurrence.
"Yes, Nana."
"That was a most amusing happening, iell. I was forced to will myself to laugh not. Oh, you wished to see the prince and his father so badly, though I was convinced it was only the prince you wished to see. Is it still so?"
"I have seen him before, Nana, I bear no deeply rooted desire to lay eyes on him once more."
"Really, Authiel, as an elfling you rambled on and on of how you planned to marry this prince, forcing me to implant in your small mind that marriage was not yet a care of yours, much less Mirkwood's prince!" She clearly teases me, and I look to her in feigned anger and hurt.
"Ai, my dear Anneth, cease to be so wounded by my jest!"
"Nana..." I find myself groaning like an angered child.
"Iell, you have been in such high spirits of late. What warrants such a change in your behaviour? 'Tis not that I find it bad, only wonder if the arrival of this prince should have any hand in your happiness."
"Nay, this prince of whom I know naught of is not the reason in the slightest, merely the decision to be glad in whatever circumstances. Even though the Shadow grows, the Ring is found, and our people sail, I will yet have joy."
"In your loneliness too, Anneth?"
"Yes, Nana. In that too."
My mother's face turns grim, as if she might see that which I cannot.
With a frown, I inquire of if she is well. "Nana, is all well?"
She offers me a true smile, though in her deep eyes there is sadness and a hurt. Another sadness separate from her grief.
"Yes, iell. Know this, that all I wish for you is happiness, true happiness. And you will only find that when you allow your life to be guided by the One who made it."
I smile back, nodding. She takes my face in her hands and kisses my forehead like she did once when I was smaller. There is a new pain in her eyes, and I know not from whence it came, and I dare not ask more.
"Now, iell, go do something that is not sitting in the house and waiting until adventure finds you. There will be no adventures to Lorien, Authiel."
"Ai, Nana, but I have always longed to go there!"
"No. Neither should you visit Gondor and the White City."
"What about Rohan?"
"No."
"Imladris?"
"Iell, we live far less that a league from the city. Well, hie you hence, daughter, I have tired of your presence."
"Truly, Nana?" I ask dejectedly.
"No, Authiel, I just wish that you should do something better than sit in a house with a grieving elleth," she says, the pain growing stronger in her eyes.
Embracing my mother, I tell her, "Nana, I would be glad to sit with you."
"Of course you would, my good daughter. Please, go to your books or something of the sort."
She urges me out the door, and so reluctantly I leave.
The short journey that is far too brief to bear the title of journey is soon completed. To the library I go, to find myself a new study, preferably on language.
I have spent much time alone, leaving me with endless amounts of time to embark on educational journeys, which I believe to be far more comforting than impulsive expeditions. And though I may not be as intelligent as some, I am far more learned than many, for the countless hours I have spent in books.
Upon reaching the library, I find the shelf devoted to the languages of men, choosing an ancient volume on the language of the Numenoreans, Adunaic. 'Tis what I believe to be a harsh sounding language, only for the fact that it is not so musical and graceful as the elven speech that I am, of course, partial to. And the curses are particularly angry sounding, which is very unladylike of me to enjoy, but the vast amount of time spent with my brother and his friends still bears a negative effect on me. I suppose I find it a way to recall his memory. A quite vulgar way. Although, the curses I mentally use tend to merely sound terrible, not mean horrific things.
Ai, still this is unladylike, which is why I refrain from using it in speaking.
I crack the book open, sitting on a nearby chair, finding myself immersed in the syntax and grammatical manners of the language.
Suddenly a touch is felt on my shoulder, and I believe I have jumped out of my seat entirely. Standing before me is Nellethiel, with an amused expression on her face and laughter written in her eyes.
"Mellon nin, you truly terrified me!" I exclaim.
"That has never failed to cause you to jump, Authiel."
"You are utterly rude, Nellethiel."
She ignores my insult, instead turning to my book.
"Adunaic, mellon nin? Truly?" asks she, disbelieving of my literature choice.
"Why, of course! Is there something faulty with my choice of language?"
"Yes, Authiel, the fact you choose language at all. Truly you have no interesting life," she laments.
"Oh, I believe I am fascinating enough."
"Yes, enough, yet you have lived so long a life with few companions, and so language has now become your solace because you have exhausted all other studies."
"I have not lived as long as you might believe, Nellethiel, though it be far longer than you."
"Long enough to see me as an elfling and then wed and not be wed yourself."
At her words I feel a loss of hope, and if my spirits have just fallen. 'Tis true. I have known her as a small elfling, since before she was born, and I have watched her grow and I saw her married with a child of her own. My sisters are wed themselves, and both have children. And their own children have children.
And still I am alone.
I could allow myself to wallow in this sadness, in this state of lost dreams and broken hopes, but I shall not.
Nellethiel notices my face fall and she places a hand on my shoulder, taking a seat opposite of me.
"Oh, Authiel, I meant not to cause you pain, mellon nin," she says. "Goheno nin, Authiel. 'Tis no wish of mine that you should be downcast so."
"No, no. I am only–being overly dramatic, pay me no mind."
"Authiel, please, I can see in your eyes that you are not merely being dramatic. I am far younger than you, yet I can still tell when you are saddened. When you believe I or anyone else cannot tell that you hurt is when you betray it the most."
"I spoke to you of how I have willed myself to be content, even in my solitude, Nellethiel. And content I will be."
She only smiles at me, shaking her head slightly.
"Oh, you look too despondent, mellon nin, let us change our topic of speech!" she exclaims.
Grabbing the book from my hands, Nellethiel makes a disgusted face.
"Authiel, the content you choose to read on is despicably dreary! 'Tis always a language."
"No, it has only recently been language. Before it was an in depth study of the histories of Arda and of all the Free Peoples."
"How many years did you spend on that?"
"I cannot recall. A great deal, of course. I took it upon myself to read through every volume in this library. You see, mellon, to educate yourself and read on histories is to understand the world better."
"And before you spent your days educating yourself on language and history what did you do?" she asks, raising her eyebrows.
I laugh quietly, recalling what I did before. "I attempted combat lessons."
Her mouth is wide open in disbelief. "Truly, Authiel? You, in combat lessons?"
"Yes. I was absolutely terrible with a sword, and even more tragically horrible with a bow. The only thing I can do in a decent matter is a punch. Voronen taught me."
"Your brother taught you to punch?"
"Why, yes! Do not tell me your brother did not!"
"He did," she admits, "yet I have found no use for it."
"I did. I used it to antagonise the one who taught me to do it. To be truthful, Nellethiel, I detest combat and battle, and there is but one reason why I indulge myself in it at various times. 'Tis in memory of my father, who had wished always that I should be able to defend myself if the time came. Well, my skills are so terrible, they should amount to naught even if I find need of them."
"I'd sooner stand by you than be defenseless on my own," says she, with confidence.
"Have not confidence in me. All I do is sit around alone, poring over ancient books of knowledge, bearing a far less than mediocre talent with a blade. I would sooner run that have the ability to defend you, though I would defend you either way."
A silence drifts through the library, with its high arches and lofty ceilings. I am not one who craves solitude in books, rather enjoying the company of friends, or busying myself with needlework. But this library gives me one more thing I can do in my life, and that is why I frequent here.
Then does a peal of laughter pierce the air, the voices following unknown. A glance through the arches reveals hobbits, walking about gladly.
"Authiel," gasps Nellethiel, "look, halflings!" Her eyes are fixed on them in wonder.
"Yes, one is the nephew of Bilbo Baggins who is oft seen in the city. I wondered if you knew of why they have come."
"I know not why they are here. A few days ago I did see Lord Glorfindel enter the city, holding a halfling. I knew he was a halfling by the curled hair and small stature, but I had not known he had companions."
"Strange," I comment.
"Yes, 'tis very strange. Rumour has it the One Ring is here. Is that true?" she asks, both wonder and fear radiating from her.
"'Tis true. Ai, I wonder what the Lord Elrond shall do to take action against the Dark Lord." Nellethiel shudders, breathing deeply.
I understand why she would shudder so, and I find my own shoulders shake slightly at the thought of Sauron taking back what is his, and the terrible, swift doom that shall follow. Thoughts such as this are what drive my people to sail, even making it a more welcome option to me.
"I do not know. But we have things the Dark Lord has not. We have love, and a true reason to fight." I offer my friend a reassuring smile. "Whatever shall come to pass shall be the will of the Father of All, and we shall trust in that great plan."
My words serve to comfort her some, as my smile is returned by one from Nellethiel. She hands me my book, before bidding my goodbye and leaving to her children and husband. Her home.
I have a home, it is here, with my mother and all my friends. 'Tis what I know best, where I have been so long. I have loved the Last Homely House and its surroundings, joyed in the lands where I have lived the whole of my life.
Familiarity I find here, a routine, a mundane life. 'Tis possible it would not be so if I had been blessed with more friends, more siblings, even–even a husband.
Oh, I will myself to be content, to find happiness when yet I find myself alone, to leave my dreams with my Creator.
It is evident He and the Valar themselves did not mean for me to have a lifelong companion.
Yes, I have resigned myself to this, and now pour my efforts into sustaining this happiness.
To my friends and sisters I have told this information, with confidence, without a wavering of my voice, without a trace of a tear. Optimism is the face I wear, the face I have worn for so long, optimism I have believed in, but now I am not so sure. I have been honest to others, that I still hurt that I wish for my dreams to be reality.
But I have not been honest to my own self. I have not acknowledged the magnitude of my hurt.
Where is the hope now? As Sauron advances toward war, and the Eldar leave to the glistening shores of Valinor, I stay. And because I stay, my mother stays.
I should leave. 'Tis only right I should do so, for my mother, and for the sake of my well being. There, in Aman, I can dwell alone without a care. My heart will less yearn for that which I have longed for, and I shall be content. That is the easiest way, the easiest path, and I will not live peacefully to know that I inflicted pain upon my own naneth for the sake of my fading dreams that never shall show themselves a reality.
No, they will not come true.
They will not.
There is no ellon. There is no husband, there is no child.
And it is with bitterness that I face this truth, this undying knowledge that my dreams have only been dreams, and I have wasted my days pining after this mysterious ellon who, alas, is only a figment of my thought. Merely an invention, never to show his face to me, never to make himself known.
I have waited here, believing that somewhere on this large continent there was an ellon for me. Destined for me, who would love and cherish me and I him. Whose characters was good and true, who would stay by me through it all.
It is folly by me, to have spent so much time on these dreams without surrendering my longings. 'Tis foolish to whine and complain of how my dreams will not materialise. It is selfish.
Oh, but in this selfishness I can dwell, still dreaming of a reality where I can have all I wished for. Still thinking of what might have been if Eru had willed it.
But I should not weep if it is from the will of He who made all, who is perfect in all His ways, whose servants watch over Arda.
I should not weep, I should be what I have resigned myself to be, content and living with optimism. I should gladden myself in the knowledge that my fate is guided by strong hands. I should find joy to know that I have friends, and my mother still is with me, not taken from me as my brother and adar were. Yes, I should be happy.
And I have joy, and I have peace, but I cannot, even by all my efforts, be content in this. 'Tis if despair itself has taken me, with no hope left. But there is always hope and faith to be had, whether it be toward my dreams or to being content regardless of the circumstances.
translations
iell- daughter
mellon- friend
nin- my
goheno nin- forgive me
yo look finally i updated
How's everyone, and by everyone I mean no one because no one reads my crap.
Which is fine...
BUT IF YOU ARE READING I LOVE YOU
AND PLEASE VOTE, COMMENT, AND LEAVE THOUGHTS AND FEEDBACK
TELL ME I STINK IF I DO
may your pantries be full of lembas bread as I go to find the Sun