Eulogy of Leaves and Stone
Time passed slowly for the elves of Middle-earth, measured by the turning of the seasons. The elves had traveled to Mithlond, so that they could be reunited with others who were leaving Middle-earth. They took their time and left their possessions behind with their sorrows. In today’s Fourth Age there were very few elves left in Arda. It seemed like only a handful remained. One such being was a lore-master of great renown, named Elorfindar of Doriath.
The elf wore bright blue with intricate golden patterns in swirls and vines. His long blonde-white hair, braided on the sides, cascaded loosely down his back. Being a lore-master, Elorfindar was well versed in the histories of the elves and he wished to preserve them the best that he could.
He knew that the memories of other races had the chance to fail and forget important times. Being able to retain remembrance of the details important to leave a legacy, Elorfindar knew he should begin work now. There was always that thought in the back of his mind, “I should have wandered east long ago”.
Elorfindar had seen much in his time. He was born in the Year of the Trees and was old and wise for his years. He had been of the Sindar who existed during the Years of the Trees and the Years of the Sun. Elorfindar was originally the scribe for King Thingol, when he possessed a Silmaril of Feanor, but Doriath was sacked when the Sons of Feanor invaded, demanding the return of the Silmaril. Luckily, Elorfindar had been the solitary elf who survived the invasion. He wasn’t sure why, but he escaped. He had survived, with just the bare minimum to his name. He took the clothes he was wearing and nothing else.
Needing a place to live, Elorfindar wondered what he could do. In the past, he had just wandered by himself. Wandering the land, until now, Elorfindar had much to think about. He knew that he would never return to Doriath and it’s disastrous ruins. He wished that he could rebuild, and had thought about doing it multiple times in the past. The urge to go east somehow filled Elorfindar’s heart. Within his mind, Elorfindar knew that it couldn’t be done.
Being eighty thousand years old, with only writing as a major skill, was frustrating to Elorfindar, still he handled it the best that he could. He tried to help in other ways that he could excel in, though, he soon figured out his only skill was writing and drawing. With only writing and drawing as a skill, he was unable to rebuild Doriath and moved to the Havens of Sirion. When I say moved, it was more of silently wandering into the Havens. He was tired of traveling and wished to rest. Elorfindar had not faded yet, but had reached the third cycle of life. Of his accomplishments, Elorfindar was the inventor of the elvish runes known as Cirth. The runic alphabet was used as an ancient writing system, that was replaced by the Tengwar. Still, he never sailed to Valinor, instead, Elorfindar remained in Lindon. Within his mind and heart, Elorfindar knew he could never fade like the others had done.
It was here, that Elorfindar was invaluable to his new lord Círdan. He had helped his lord with much during his reign in Lindon. With the sailing of the last ship from the Grey Havens, Círdan, along with Elrond and Mithrandir left Middle Earth. Even still, Elorfindar held his lord within his heart. He knew that he should have wandered east long ago, though Elorfindar’s mind was filled with contradictions.
Walking through his room in the ancient land of Lindon, Elorfindar quietly pushed past thin, gossamer like curtains and sat down at his desk. The walls around him were made from pillars carved with swans at the top. The doorway had two intertwining swans with their wings outstretched to the sides, fanning the door. On the desk, to his left was a pile of blank scrolls, next to that was a quill that rested in an ink well.
Picking up the silver feather with golden tip and gold flecks of paint on the veins, Elorfindar tapped the instrument into the ink, then started writing. The letters and words scrawled upon the paper were from the Cirth alphabet. It was an ancient script, fallen into disuse by the elves in today’s society. Though the elders still referred to it in today’s age.
Elorfindar was skilled enough to invent a writing system and invented the writing system that he was using in every day situations. He told himself that he would write a story of the Lady Arwen Undómiel, the King Elessar, Legolas Greenleaf and others who lived in the late Third Age. Looking down at the scroll, Elorfindar smiled as a thought came to him. Smiling, Elorfindar put pen to scroll, while outside, the season began to turn cold and dark. He knew that his new purpose would be in preserving instead.
Knowing how to read and write in both languages, Elorfindar was stubborn and used the Cirth script whenever possible. Writing in the Cirth script, Elorfindar began his story.
