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Dear Adanel,
I beg of you, write to my father once more and ask him to send me to you for another few years. I have not dared ask him myself, for the danger is too great. I cannot allow my secret to be known.
I need your aid. Please, dear aunt, my fate it is in your hands.
—Andreth
Two letters arrived to the Lord's house in Ladros, as swift as the elves could carry them.
Boromir,
I know it has been only a few years since her last visit, but I write to request Andreth come live with Belemir and I again.
With five children to mind, I have become terribly overwhelmed, and there is a patient among my folk who has sustained a grievous injury. In order to tend to him, I cannot spend time with my children as I ought, and Belemir is too busy to be of much assistance.
Tereth and Echadril are helpful with their siblings, but I would deeply grateful if Andreth could come to my aid again. She will not simply be minding children—I have taught her well, and she will be of great aid to my patient as well.
I await your swift reply.
Your cousin’s wife,
Adanel
Andreth,
You foolish girl! Of course I will help you. And next time, tell me what your problem is in your letter, so I will not have to scry for it!
I will take you in for as long as you need. And I will help with the baby, also.
Your loving aunt,
Adanel
Dear Adanel,
You may certainly borrow Andreth! She can stay with you as long as you have need of her. I am proud of the wisdom and skill she has learned from your guidance. You are a good influence on her.
Sincerely,
Boromir of Ladros
Dear Aunt,
You told me to follow my heart, and I did. But perhaps I should not have.
I knew that Men—well, Women—could conceive without intention...but I did not think an Elf and a Woman could conceive by accident.
Our marriage is a secret. Even now I dare not write her name.
What are we to do?
—A
Nephew,
You dolt. Use this as an excuse to make your marriage public!
But if you still feel that impossible, I shall come visit you and your wife, and aid her however I can. This is an unprecedented occurrence, so far as I know, and she may benefit from an elleth’s wisdom...even though I have not born a child myself.
Love,
L.
Boromir,
I have begun this letter at least four times
She has sworn me to secrecy, but I
I know how dearly you love your daughter, and would never
Is there something you said that would make Andreth think that you would
Arminas,
You would not believe how many letters I have been carrying around Ladros these past few months. Such a flurry of correspondence from our lords to their vassals! I wonder if some grand festival is being planned?
I hope your own mission is going well; to the Falas and back is a long way, but not, I hope, terribly perilous. I myself shall be heading to Nargothrond soon, halfway to your destination, and I hope our paths will cross.
I miss you, my friend. Perhaps I shall see you in Finrod’s halls, or at least at this great feast!
Your friend,
Gelmir
Orodreth,
Not so long ago, you mentioned that you and Amathluin hoped to someday give Finduilas a sibling. If you would still embrace a second child, please come to Ladros. I need your help.
—Aegnor
Uncle Aegnor,
Of course I will aid you, but I do not see how my family life is relevant to
This is Amathluin; Resto did not know how to respond. Yes, we shall come. And yes, we can help you and the child.
With love,
A&O
My love,
The world is far too dangerous for a child such as ours. We do not know what fate he faces as he ages, or should he die. I pray he never shall—but I know I will perish, and I am no mortal Man. Even if the blessing of my spirit should pass to him, shall he live to receive it?
I see him in your arms and I weep. I love him dearly. Your aunt says he looks just like you, and mine says he looks like me; but none can mistake him for a mortal child. He has the ears and eyes of an Elf.
Oh, our precious little boy.
But I am a warlord, and you a lady of a noble house. We knew it could not be. We knew, and yet we dared—
And now he shall suffer for our daring. So it is in Arda Marred: the sweet and the bitter, for I would not wish for him never to have come into being. And yet because of him...
Perhaps our marriage could have been kept secret. Perhaps it still can. But for you or I to raise a child, all alone? We cannot do it together...
And I do not think you will be able to look at me again with love when I am the one who sent him away.
My nephew will take good care of him. He will raise him as a Prince of the Noldor, such as he is; and my brother shall not let him forget the nobility of the House of Bëor. Perhaps we may even see him blossom from afar.
And should he age as you...
No. He has the bearing of an Elf, even now.
My love...
You have named him already, for the stars under which he was born. I dare not give him a name of my own. He has too much of me, already.
Oh, my love. Even should you turn your face from me in grief and shame, as you have every right to do, I shall love you and no other for the rest of my days. I cannot regret our time together, however brief. Your soul shall be tied to mine for all of Arda, even when you escapes the Circles of the World. You have forever changed me. And in return, I have forever marred you.
Curse my name if you will; I deserve it. But our son will grow up loved, by a mother and a father and even a sister. I wish it did not have to be so far away from us, but it is better this way. You are wise; you know it to be true.
Already I foresee your weeping, and it breaks my heart. I weep even as I write this. I will embrace you, if you let me, but I know it cannot heal your hurts.
I love you, despite everything. I grieve with you.
Your damnable husband,
Aegnor
Gelmir,
I am sorry to have missed you in Nargothrond. I see no evidence of a feast here in Ladros. I fear rather that our lords are planning for war; they are grim enough that I should believe it.
As I have told you before, writing these letters is pointless. We are our lords’ messengers, and no one shall deliver them but ourselves; and upon seeing one another in person, why would we bother with writing when speech between friends is swifter and more pleasant?
And yet, I cannot begrudge you this indulgence. I find comfort in seeing your handwriting waiting for me when I return home before you. Still, I hope you need not read my message, but the smile on my face when we meet next.
Yours,
Arminas
Dear Gil-galad:
Perhaps you shall never read this. I hope that someday, your mother finds it prudent to share with you the true story of your birth, but my hope has never meant much in the face of the world we live in.
Gil-galad, it is I who gave you that name. When your father and I met, the stars were reflected in the lake below us. When you took your first breath and cried, it was beneath the stars. When I let you go, the stars were shining.
Perhaps I could have gone with you and been your nursemaid. It would not have been strange for Finrod’s house to take another Mannish servant. But to see you call another woman Mother would have been too much for me. It was better you never know me.
I am long since departed. No matter when you read this letter, I will have died. I am granted only a short span of years: call it a gift or a curse, it is the fate of Men, and Women also. Your father worried you would face that same fate, but I know you shall take after him in this.
Should you ever read my words, know that I loved you. Know that it broke me to give you away. Know that I did so only because a life as my son would have been troubled and uncertain, and your new family could give you happiness and peace, at least for a time.
A Doom lies heavy over all Men, and over your father’s house. I hope that when that shadow reaches you, you shall be strong enough to face it, or even defeat it.
Your father cannot do that, and neither can I. But perhaps you, my son, shall. For you are the best of us, and take our best parts with us.
Aiya, Gil-galad! My starlight, my dream: precious and pure you are, and I beg you not forget it.
We shall never meet again, unless the prophecies of my people are true—and the Wise among your kin have their doubts. Well, I am Wise also: and I say to you, my son, that I await you at the Battle of Battles, your shieldmaiden and your song.
Starlight, sweetheart, Prince of Elves and Men: I say to you, none shall shine so bright as your star. Remember that, should you read this. Hold it close to your heart.
And if your parents yet live, give them my thanks and my love from beyond the grave. I am indebted to them.
With all that remains of my heart: I love you, Gil-galad.
Your mourning mother,
Andreth Saelind
Year 101 since Bëor met Nóm;
or Year 411 of the Sun, by the counting of the Elves.