The shift from Warrior Archer to Ranger Bard is nearly complete. The bow is still my weapon, but more for hunting than war, and the sword is left home now in favor of an Elven longknife. My garments are more often dress and overdress than tunic and trousers now. More suitable for the lady Harper who tells the tales of old, creates the new tales to honor the valiant and satirize the evil. More suitable for time around a good fire or hearth, or in the hall of keep or home than for the wild places, aye.
I still visit the wild places, aye, but my tasks are less concerned with watching the bounds than with keeping Deeds, Renown, and Infamy clear in the minds of the Folk.
Lindar I am become; I have spent much time at the colleges in Dol Amroth to hone my skills and expand my talent and knowledge. Much time have I spent in the librarires of Dol Amroth, Pelargir, and Minas Tirith. Mourning I have done, over the lost Lore of Osgiliath, and deeper still over the fallen Kingdom of Arnor and beyond, to the Akallabêth itself. What Lore remains is mine to keep alive as best I can, along with those like me.
In dress and gown, wimple and veil, simple jewelry, and humble shoes, with harp and lyre I go, from place to place, hearth to hearth, hall to hall...teaching, learning, sharing, remembering, reclaiming, and renewing.
All things change in the fullness of time. As my ancestors once did, so do I still; I accept the changes that age brings.
Eledhwen
