~~~~~

Oh, sleep forever in the Latmian cave,
Mortal Endymion, darling of the Moon!
Her silver garments by the senseless wave
Shouldered and dropped and on the shingle strewn,
Her fluttering hand against her forehead pressed,
Her scattered looks that troubled all the sky,
Her rapid footsteps running down the west -
Of all her altered state, oblivious lie!
Whom earthen you, by deathless lips adored,
Wild-eyed and stammering to the grasses thrust,
And deep into her crystal body poured
The hot and sorrowful sweetness of the dust:
Whereof she wanders mad, being all unfit
For mortal love, that might not die of it.


Sonnet 52, Edna St. Vincent Millay

~~~~~

Elvish translations:

cuil-nín - my life
meleth - love
melethen - my love
mell- nín - my beloved
melin le - I love you
melithon le anuir - I will love you forever

~~~~~

You are cold, melethen. Let me warm you.

How long it has been since I last held you like this! Not in this Age of the world, at least. Almost two hundred years since we first met, and became lovers. Such a short time we shared together, mell-nín, before you met her; and in my pride I could not bring myself to tell you how I truly felt. Do you know, melethen, how often since then I have dreamed of this? How many nights I shared a watch with you, or lay with my bedroll beside yours in front of a campfire, aching to touch you, to hold you like this? How many times I cursed myself for letting you go without a fight, without a word?

Every day, melethen: every dawn that I faced alone, every night that I lay awake in loneliness, or slept to dream that I embraced you once again, and knew that you loved me - always to awaken again to an empty bed, a desolate heart.

There were moments, during those days before the Ring was destroyed, when I believed some part of you still cared. A touch that lingered just a moment longer than it need must. An expression on your face when you did not know I was watching you. But I was so careful to give nothing away myself, fearful of reopening barely closed wounds, that I never dared to follow where these might lead. How bitterly I have regretted my cowardice since!

You need not fear that we shall be disturbed, mell-nín. The Queen will not return, and I have asked the guards to grant me some private time alone with my dearest friend. They shall see to it, we have all the time we desire.

The robes I remove now are certainly much finer, meleth, than the dusty and stained leathers you were used to wear! Your face is a bit more lined, your hair more streaked with grey, but your body is still as hard and strong as it ever was. I still remember all the places you loved for me to touch, all the caresses that made you arch and moan beneath me, so many years ago.

I stayed away, as much as I could, once the Ring was destroyed and you took your rightful place at last. I could not bear the pain of seeing you with her, seeing the love you shared that I had no part in. I might have spoken earlier, before you were wed, but even then I dared not take the chance, that you might turn from me in scorn, or worse in pity. As long as I did not speak, I could still imagine that some day you might turn to me again.

In my foolishness I thought I had faced the worst pain life could offer, and learned to endure it. And then your son was born. How proud you were, melethen, and of course you summoned me to join in your celebration. Your joy only served to underscore my loneliness. I left as soon as I decently could, desperate to put as much distance between us as possible, before I gave myself away. It must have been my grief, my sorrow that made me careless. I was riding aimlessly through the still-deserted Brown Lands, heading back toward Mirkwood, when the attack came.

There were at least a dozen of them, Uruks who had somehow escaped the patrols of Ithilien and Rohan. An arrow in my thigh unhorsed me, and though I fought fiercely I knew I was outnumbered. I took all but one of them down with my long knives before the leader overpowered me at last.

Aí, melethen, you are the only reason I survived what came next. I thought I was prepared to die, but I was not prepared for what the Uruk took from me that day. I thought of you, that even though you did not love me, you would grieve to learn of my death, and of the manner of it. And I would not leave this world so long as you yet lived in it. So I forced myself to imagine it was you. It was you who tore the tunic from me and pushed my leggings roughly around my knees; you who bit and scratched and clawed at me in your passion. It was you my lips closed around, who thrust deeply into my willing mouth; you who entered me roughly, but the pain was as nothing because it had been so long, so long since I had felt you, and it was good, so good to feel you loving me once more...

And when the Uruk bent me over to take me again, I could at last reach the dagger hidden in my boot (a trick I learned from you, meleth!) and I buried it deep within his chest. Then I took back from him all that he had taken from me, and more besides; and he was beyond hearing what name I sobbed in my release.

I have killed very many more Orcs since then. So many, in fact, I fear they are becoming in short supply.

But now, melethen, now we are together at last, and you will heal me of all the years of loneliness and pain. Let me kiss you, meleth...let me touch you, meleth...let me love you...Melin le...Melithon le anuir...

You are still so cold, melethen, and I realize at last that nothing I can do will warm you again. No, no, cuil-nín, do not leave me, do not leave me here alone, I cannot bear it!

Why has Eru cursed me, what have I ever done to deserve this fate? What shall I do now, where shall I find the strength to continue? Shall I travel to Valinor, to face there an eternity of watching others enjoy a bliss I cannot share, of enduring their pity? Shall I remain here in Arda, forever searching among your descendents for an ever-diminishing echo of your essence? Even death will not free me of this torment, for I will only awaken again in the Halls of Mandos, and you will not be there.

More than all the years of love she shared with you, I envy her this: that she can follow you in death, to share whatever unknown Doom awaits Men beyond the circles of the world. Even the release of nothingness is denied to me.

'Watch over the Queen,' were almost your last words to me; and I will do so, meleth. She will not linger long behind you. She means to travel to Lórien, and I shall accompany her. And when her time is fulfilled, I will savor her sweetness one last time, and see whether any taste of you lingers upon her lips. Then I will lay her to rest beneath the green grass of Cerin Amroth, lest any evil creature dishonour her bones.

Afterwards….I know not what I shall do afterwards. Aí, melethen, when both of you are gone at last, I do not know how I shall remain sane.

The only lie you ever told me, melethen, was that there is always hope.