Dreams & Things

*Peers out the frost-rimed panes of the window, watching snowflakes reflect firelight briefly as they swirl past. Pokes at the fire so it burns more evenly, draws on her pipe, and leans back, eyes half-lidded, letting her thoughts wander*

'A lot of years, it has been. We've seen a lot, no doubts there. Still only a small part of all there is to see and learn. We don't live as long as once we did, that's a fact. I reckon it's for the better, on the whole. Last time we were given the gift of very long life we wound up destroying ourselves, for the most part. Aye, I reckon it is best not to have such. I never have understood that wild fear of death, or more accurately, that wild fear of the unknown that lies behind it.'

*draws on her pipe and shifts in her chair, gently rocking*

'It isn't really, unknown that is. Anyone with eyes to see, ears to hear, and minds to think with can suss that out readily enough. No, I reckon it is more to do with the loss of things material. Of little value to that which is ourselves, yet of inestimable value to the vessel we inhabit. We have yet to learn to work in harmony with both, I deem. Death really is a gift, as the Valar and Eru have said. A cessation of weariness, at least for a time. This is how I see it. Yet I live at once in both worlds now, have done for a long while. I know nothing of what the Eldar speak, of Elvenhome, of Valinor. No human does, outside of tales and conjecture. Yet humans do, now and then return from the brink, and they are changed, and have seen things. Some say it is simple imagination. I think not, though I shan't waste time arguing over it.'

*listens to the rumble of snow from the roof, pulling her cloak a little closer about her*

'Soon enough, I will know for certain, as all those who have gone before do. In the meantime, when this storm stops there are patrols to be made, things to watch, chores to attend to. My 62nd Winter is here, and the cold seems to bite harder than once it did. Even so, the duties must be done..and the Watch must be kept.'

*lays her pipe aside and rolls herself in her blanket, sliding into light sleep...and dreams. As always*

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No, no depression, I am not sad. A bit of a story, a very small bit, welling out, is more accurate. 

My imagination spends a lot of time in Middle Earth, on Arda, even if I don't often mention it in the Real World Social Media Cesspool. For me, it's an escape from the madness here...where the evil and the good are fairly easily distinguished, unlike the modern current world.

Pipes and women. Women smoked pipes commonly, right up into the 1930s, until pressure from disapproval repressed it. It is currently on a revival of sorts. Some nice pipes for women out there.For a while, long ago, I did smoke a pipe...or rather, just drew the smoke into my mouth and exhaled. I never inhaled it intentionally. It was, in fact, The Hobbit that got me started doing that. *laughs* I have pipes now, although I do not smoke them. They'd likely set off the smoke alarms and the smoke is still as unhealthy as ever it has been, despite how nice it can smell. Perhaps when I am alone and old and out in the forests, I'll have a pipeful, just for the hell of it.

I had injured my left arm again such that I could not draw bow at all. Today, I managed to draw. I cannot hold it steady yet, and I need to continue to take more than common care, yet I am mending. 

I decided to make the wooden core for a sheath for my DelTin version of Glamdring...it was unauthorized and yet captured the original description so well. There was also an Orcrist I was not able to obtain, sister to Glamdring if slightly different. They are beautiful blades. Mine is. DelTin made, and still makes, outstanding swords. I acquired mine in the mid-80s.

So I will make a proper scabbard for it. About time. That and the Elven hunting knife, made under Elf supervision. ;)

Eledhwen