What World Is This?

August 25, 2019


I still cannot fathom how long I slept. Three thousand years is an eternity, even among my kin. Though I am ashamed to admit it even privately, Elrond’s recounting of what has happened since makes me glad I was not there to witness it. I do not think I could have borne the ruination of Arnor, or the sullying of Greenwood. I can hardly bear to hear of it now.

The Last Homely House is a haven, as it always was. I could sit here and listen to its fountains murmur for another Age, but I suspect Elrond already has other plans for me. I can see it in his tactician’s gaze.

It is a comfort to know that my friend has not changed.

I wonder if Prince Thranduil survived the battle. I wonder if he ever took a wife.