Word count: 100
Notes: warning – romantic angst!
Disclaimer: Tolkien wouldn’t have written this, but he might understand the sentiment.
They say Time’s passing dulls pain. True, it takes the bitter edge from the searing sense of loss; any lessening of anguish is an improvement. At least, for other men; Dunedain received the gift of long life, and my birthright gives elven strength to memory. I recall every look, every glance, every play of sunlight and shadow. I hone my memories keen, hugging them close. The bright Blade that pierced my heart is cherished there, beyond measure.
My patience improves with passing years. I do not surrender to – ‘if only…’, but live in hope of ‘…maybe’ - yet to come.