Randirlindë

After some contemplation I decided to go whole hog into the transition from Warrior to Bard. I was reminded by a fellow Ranger that Dol Amroth is noted as having the most skilled harpers and while I am of the North and not of Gondor, still the fact remains that those in Gondor came, like we of the North, from Númenorë. If harpers there are in the South Kingdom, then harpers there were and are in those of North. I am one such.

We no longer have the grand courts and cities, and Annuminas lies ruined, yet still we remember and still we are of the Sunken Lands. Descendents, certainly, diminished, undoubtedly, but however our lives and bodies may be less than of old, still do our hearts and spirits burn brightly.

Randirlindë am I, and my task is the history, genealogy, and soul of our people. Their deeds, their follies, their triumphs, and defeats. All are mine to keep and to recite down the years left to me. Too, it is for me to inspire, give hope, warn, and remind my folk of the wiles of the Enemy. I also shame and damn the enemy, revealing his deceits whenever I can.

For this purpose I have designed and shall soon build a harp worthy of our long history, or so I hope it will prove to be.

Eledhwen, Randirlindë.

Wander I Ever Shall

I have grown silver over these years, chasing the Shadow. My eyesight is not what once it was. My strength, not yet withered, is no longer young. My spirit remains undimmed, the flame of my spirit burning as brightly as ever. Yet age catches us up....the gift of Eru to Men. So it is meant to be and I find no fault with it.

I can still draw bow, but not so strongly as once I could. I can wield shortsword, but not so tirelessly as before. I can range the wilderness, but not so swiftly as in my younger years. Time has wrought changes.

Yet there are things I still can do, which rely not on strength of arm, speed of foot, nor endless endurance. I have some small knowledge of the world and its workings, a little glimmer of Wisdom, and I can harp.

I have taken up my harp and even now the deeds of heroes and of villains are marshaling themselves in my thoughts. From thought flows word, shaped by the flow of Awen into praise or satire as needs must.

I have been a Ranger for many long Winters. My ranging days are closing but my wandering shall not cease. My weapons may change, but the new ones are sharper in their way. To remember, to honor, to damn, and to shame are all in my arsenal. To teach and to illuminate.

I shall wander to the end of my days. My weapons may change, my pace may slow, yet wander I ever shall.

Eledhwen