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His hair is still thick and it gleams in the light of the setting
sun almost with the colour of youth, though that is illusion; it has
faded to a pure white that somehow becomes him. His face is worn and
lined by concern and sorrow and I wish I could wipe away those
outward signs of care, although I would leave the deep lines around
eyes and mouth. Those I love, for they are the legacy of the warm,
humourous nature that has sustained me, our son and those who look
to us for guidance through all we have been called upon to endure.
I first saw Tuor, my love, lord of my heart, as he entered the
courtyard of my father’s palace in lost Gondolin. I saw the way he
walked, certain of himself but without arrogance, and my soul knew
it had found what it sought. That he was mortal meant less than
nothing; a few short years sharing his love would be worth the long
eternity of memories after his passing. Later as I stood beside my
father and listened to his words I had already accepted that our
fates would be bound for as long as the Powers permitted.
Nothing has ever given me cause to question or regret my choice.
Many years have passed since that day; Gondolin is no more, our son
is fully grown. In appearance Eärendil is beautiful but more like to
one of the Second-born than of my kind, and has bound himself to the
daughter of the son of the daughter of Elu Thingol and the Maia. It
is a choice my instinct tells me will be good and right, even though
she is a strange, fey child, putting me often in mind of a startled
deer. She fled from the swords of the Kinslayers while still so very
young – I pray the marks this has left upon her soul do not stain
her sons, for I will not be here in this almost-safe haven beside
the sea to mitigate the possible damage.
My love stands as he does every eve around dusk, looking into the
west and watching the sun sink from sight while he awaits my
decision – will I sail with him, or will I remain here and watch
over our family and offer what wisdom I posses to this growing
community? As though there ever was or could be any choice. He is my
heart, loved no less now that he is in the winter of his years as
his kind reckon it than when he was at the height of his potency and
beauty. After all, his appearance may have changed and his strength
lessened, but his eyes still shine as ever they did with love and
mirth, his laughter still kindles joy within me, and his touch still
awakens sweet desire. If anything I love him more, for time has
fitted us together like a hand within a glove.
I told him on the day when we bound that I would give him as much of
forever as was permitted to us, that only the Gift of the One to his
kind could part us. Therefore I will sail into the setting sun at
his side. Will we reach the Undying Lands, that forgotten place from
the mists of my childhood? Despite his hopes, somehow I doubt that
the road will open to us. But whatever the end our final adventure
in a life filled with adventure might hold, we will face it as
previously we have faced betrayal, war and certain death. Together.