AelKennyr Rhiano
"Unto my fair and most loved Cousin, Queen of Sylvhara, Comet, comes warmest greetings from Olwe of Alqualonde
"I hunger for news of you, my Sweet Cousin, and this morn, especially, my heart aches to know you are safe within your realm, attended well by your court. Here I sit, as Arien takes her vessel upon its oft repeated journey, yet this morn the shadows that linger, waiting to be dispelled by daystar's light, are in my heart, not easily dismissed by glow of that vessel's light..."
He dips the tip of the quill into the inkwell and deftly extracts it. His precise, neat handwriting belied the disquiet deep inside him this morning. In silence Olwe recounted all that has transpired in the Swanhaven since last he saw the fair Queen: the arrival the dwarf mother, Aztryd; the arrival and departure of the dragon Dometis; the attack upon his beloved Alqualonde; and finally, the demise of the swordmaiden. As he recounts the last, his hand trembles slightly.
"My Much Loved Comet, I must not delay longer in what it is I am to do. Obvious it was that both dragon and balrog sought not only to reduce Alqualonde to a charred and burnt, barren island, but to take my life. I cannot but wonder if I bear responsibility for the death of Elenwe. For if I have not been here, would they have found Alqualonde and wrought such destruction?
I must seek such as our kin as are still here, and those who are allied with our kin. I cannot do accomplish remaining here in Alqualonde. But, Comet, even after spending two full turns of the seasons here in the world, I know no more of our kin than I did when Ulmo himself removed the Swanhaven from Aman and placed us but a short sailing from your shores.
Beloved, again I must turn to you, for consultation and for advice. But above all else, my Cousin, I long once more to see your bright face, to hold you once more, and take comfort for myself that you are safe in Sylvhara. It will brace my heart to assure me you are safe within your realm as I become, not Olwe, Lord of the Teleri, but Olwe of Alqualonde, for I cannot be so foolish as to expect our kin to cast care or remembrance for those of us who journeyed West. The span of time as one age has flowed into another has rendered us, at best, tales elders recount as threads of fantasy to sleepy children fighting Irmo's blessings."
Olwe looked up from his missive and out the window close by. The rain had started again, and the clouds hung angry and grey in the sky. Morning has come, Arien's vessel sailing steadily higher in the sky. Rising from his chair, he continued to stare at the window for several moments before shaking his head a little and turning back to seal the letter.
> Next Olwë