She dreams of Golden Hope

Book One: In a Hole in the ground there lived two hobbits

"Too see a World in a Grain of Sand and a Heaven in a Wild Flower, Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand and Eternity in an hour." Auguries of Innocence- William Blake

The sun was shining on her long, golden-blonde hair and she could distinctly hear the dulcet symphony of the melody of the early morning larks coupled with the discreet fluttering of butterfly wings, which in this part of Middle Earth were so beautiful and creatively composed. Not even in her homeland had she seen the extraordinary design on butterfly wings that she had first glimpsed in the Shire and that had become one of her favourite aspects about the place. She had been used to monochrome wings that were vibrant of colour, but other than that were quite common and contrasted with the otherworldly beauty of her childhood home. The butterflies there were either midnight blue, or rose red, and sometimes even daffodil yellow. When she had arrived in the Shire she had been enchanted by the elaborate design she had seen on the wings of the butterflies. The ostentatious adornment they flew with. Here the butterflies were not monochrome, but their wings were adorned with the most unusual patterns. Contrasted with the pine green background, you could see swirls of rich brown that reminded her of the colour of her husbands eyes. She looked at her surroundings and took no note of the beauty of this early spring morning. The sun was already shining bright in the sky and was illuminating the rolling meadows, which she rode past, in such a way that the soft green grass and the healthy, sprouting blossoms seemed to glow. She took no note of the sweet smell of spring flowers and the scent of hearty cooked food, the latter which seemed to grow in intensity as she approached her destination. She took no note of this smell, which she had always found comforting, which she had come to associate with home, that wafted through the warm air and encompassed her. She had always found joy in riding this way, because when she had done so firstly she had been accompanied by the expectation of being reunited with her love and then when she had finally been eternally bound to him, they would ride side by side to visit his sister and her dearest friend. Both of them would then be giddy in excitement, anticipating the joy of their visit, the warm reception of his sister and the delightful hours of divertment and pleasant conversation in the garden. Together they would then return to their own home and would eagerly await their next visit, while spending their time together and blissfully joyful. The journey she had undertaken had always been a source of joy to her and she would always perceive the beauty of the Shire and take delight in it.

Yet she did not do so now. Elauriel rode past the rolling downs, she rode past the landscape, which she had always found so beautiful in ist simplicity, but she kept her head down and took no note of it. She did not take note of the natural beauty, which she passed by and did not take her usual infantile delight in it. Then again she had not taken delight in many things, since… She closed her eyes and she did not dare to take the thought any further, because the pain and longing which the thoughts evoked cut through the haze of grief and agony that had blanketed her and which seemed to have become a part of her, as vital as an organ, as vital as he had been. While she had been growing up, everyone had commented on how beautiful Elauriel was. Beauty was not an uncommon thing in the elvish culture, indeed all members of their race had an appearance so handsome that it was almost painful to behold. With her long, flowing blonde hair and her silvery, shining grey eyes, Elauriel's features had not been uncommonly beautiful. Yet, what caused others to comment on her appearance was her constant happiness, which served to light up her features like a glorious beacon. Her bright smile that was almost a siren call to the male elves of Rivendell, the way her entire face was smilling, when her lips twisted into a grin, like how her eyes would crinkle at the sides and a small dimple would appear on her right cheek. In her century on this earth, Elauriel had always been described as joyful and content. Yet as she rode toward Bag End on this early morning, Elauriel could be described as anything but happy. The elvish woman was positively miserable and she did not shine like a bright star, as her friends in Rivendell had so often claimed. She seemed drab, her shiny blonde hair did not reflect the sun's light, but seemed dim in appearance, her eyes had lost that glim of excitement, which they had always sported and now the grey seemed ashen in appearance. And that is how she felt, she felt plain, and worst of all she did not feel the despair that seemed to have been ingrained in her since that fateful day, when she had excitedly exited the house at the sound of horse hooves, anticipating her husband's arrival, only to find that it was not him, but a man with a face as grim as death and an unruly appearance. She had begged for the despair, that had risen in her at the message that grim, bearded man had brought and which had tormented her for so long, to end and when it had, she had longed for it to return, because that perilous feeling had been like a remainder that she lived, but now she only felt numb and that foggy blanket that had descened upon her and dulled her perception and feeling was coupled with an excrutiation, sharp pain in her chest. Now that the despair had subsided, it felt like she no longer was living. And indeed she had given up. She had given up on everything, when her husband had brutally and cruelly been ripped from her.