Mithalwen reflected that it was the second time Aman had startled them. There was something unusual about this young woman - or else Mithalwen's senses were dulled by the hubbub and unfamiliarity of the inn. Few mortals can catch an elf off guard even if they are not consciously on their guard.
"Aman, will you join us?" Mithalwen poured three generous glasses from the bottle she had brought over. "Then perhaps we can resolve the misunderstandings and grief that have occured ... and there are one or two more trivial matters I would ask your counsel on... but " Mithalwen hesitated .. the situation stretched even elvish skill in language, and though these few days in the shire had refreshed her long unused Westron she wished she could speak in her own tongue - but while Snaveling would cope she did not think that maids of rohan were raised to use the elvish tongue. "Forgive me, what I am about to say is likely to surprise you, shock you even and I may ask questions you find intrusive after such slight acquaintanceship, but I ask that you hear me out?"
Aman took a good sip of of wine and nodded her assent, although her gaze met the elf's grey eyes steadily she could not but be aware of the tension that filled Snaveling. They formed a strange triptych in the relative seclusion of their shadowed corner. The shabby dunedain lord flanked by two women, the golden maid of Rohan, elven fair and her pale reflection, the ageless elfwoman, silver haired and grey clad. However in Mithalwen's eyes, Aman saw compassion fuelled by the memory of loss and long sorrow. They implored her to listen and understand and the words though spoken seemed to carry soothing melodies, although at first she was bewildered since Mithalwen was telling her things she already knew - of Snaveling's lost family.
" Since you spoke this afternoon, Tar Corondir, has come to a certain realisation, but only you can confirm if it is really true.... " time to utter those words which no matter how gently introduced were likely to have the same effect on Aman's mind as spring had on ice floes, words that might shatter her world - but also remake it, and Snaveling's. she laid a gentle hand on Aman's
"Tar-Corondir has noticed a ressemblance between you and his late wife, he believes you may be his lost son's child. ... There is a connection between you I deem ... I know little of your history but is it possible that it is true - or is it only that his wish sees a likeness ?"
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“But Finrod walks with Finarfin his father beneath the trees in Eldamar.”
Christopher Tolkien, Requiescat in pace
Last edited by Mithalwen; 03-19-2005 at 03:02 PM.
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