The Eternal Starlight

A Letter from Lorien

The door opened, the sound echoing throughout the house. In the absence of the melodies of the flute, the wooden walls stood silent. Birds sang no more beside his window, and squirrels hesitated at his doorstep. Only dried leaves and cracked soil remained in earthen pots where once a multitude of plants had thrived.

The majority of his possessions had already been handed over to his acquaintances, Erenien included. The rest of it had been fed to the fire. The house he shared with Feren and the meagre furnishings remained, ready to be handed over to another family in need.

The sound of her elven footsteps was quite audible as she crossed the hallway and paused in front of the carved wooden door. Her hands were surprisingly steady as she undid the latch. Then slowly, the door creaked open.

His scent was in the air, faint yet heady as petrichor and new growth. She greedily inhaled it, even though it made her throat close up, even though her eyes burned in memory. The few rays of sun that escaped an overcast sky slanted down over the bed and table in the far left corner. There wasn't a single sheet of paper on his desk. Neither was his inkwell nor that dark green ink that he'd always preferred.

A sudden crack, caused by a gust of wind slamming the window panes into the outer wall. The glass panes survived the impact, much to her relief. Those who came to clean up his room would have left them open—to cleanse the home of everything that remained as that of the departed.

The bed, thankfully, looked pristine, though only coated by a fine layer of dust. Gingerly, she sat down at the edge, running a trembling hand over the sheet. Then, with much care, Erenien laid herself down, one hand clutching his pillow close to her chest and placing the other where his chest would have been had he been lying beside her.

Suddenly, it was all too much. She withdrew her hand and pressed it hard on her lips. No sound came out of her throat, even when her body shook violently. She had promised herself that she would not cry—not because of any particular bravery. Because every breath she took was the gift of his sacrifice.

"Hey..."

She wiped her face abruptly and slowly sat up, the pillow still clutched in her lap. Too caught up in her thoughts was Erenien, so she had missed the sound of another footfall. Standing at the doorway, Tauriel was donning her usual greens and browns, carrying her assortment of weapons. Her smile was kind. Though Erenien could only return a quirk of her lips.

Tauriel's eyes swept the room as she slowly walked in. Even if she noticed the other's bloodshot eyes, she thankfully decided not to bring it up.

"How's Feren?" Erenien shifted on the bed, leaning against the bed frame to face her.

"He is getting better—physically, I mean." Tauriel trailed a hand over the table, feeling the dust catch at her fingertips. "Aerwen insisted on keeping him in the healing ward for at least another week." Her eyes then came to rest on Erenien. "Come with me."

"I can't," Erenien said, fixing her gaze at the window. Cool spring winds were already blowing outside, tugging the panes wide open, and the trees waved their sparsely budding branches at her.

"We have received messengers from Lorien. They are planning an attack on Dol Guldur."

Erenien's eyes widened momentarily before giving way to impassiveness. But Tauriel was sure that she had the other's attention, no matter how disinterested she made it look.

"I don't know what Lord Thranduil has planned. But it will be worth hearing with your own ears, don't you think? They are meeting this afternoon."

The pull to know more was strong enough for her to not ignore it. Sighing, she dragged herself up, leaving the pillow against the bed frame. Tauriel offered her an arm. Linking her hand with hers, Erenien threw one final glance at the house that would soon become someone else's and walked away.