Laurië Lassi – Golden Leaves by Esteliel

The Letter

There was no avoiding it; the letter had to be composed...

Who will receive this letter? An uncle? A lover? The High-King? Why is there "no avoiding it"? Circumstances? Or is Mother watching with arms crossed? Will the letter be written in haste? Or will each phrase be meticulously crafted?

Write a story or poem inspired by this line (you do not need to use the exact quote), or create a piece of art that reflects this situation.

The Letter

Laurefindil sighed as he looked down at the letter. He did not know what to write. How did one respond to an invitation like this? An invitation to celebrate the betrothal of the man who had initiated him to his darker side, who had proved such a faithful, patient teacher, and who had above all taught him joy and pride in who he was?

An hand came to rest gently on his arm. He looked up and forced himself to smile at his mother. He had not even heard her enter his study, but of course she would be aware of what the letter for him had contained – gossip about Findaráto and Amarië's betrothal had spread very quickly.

“Do you regret that it is not you? I know how much he means to you.”

Laurefindil leaned back and sighed. “I do not know. I love him – but I am not meant to wed him. I like Amarië, and they are well suited to each other. I know that she gives him something he needs, something I never would be able to give him. And yet... A small part of me is jealous, I fear.”

“Perhaps you are not jealous because you lose a beloved,” his mother pointed out gently. “Perhaps you are afraid that you are losing a friend.”

He mulled her words over in his head. “You might be right. Maybe that is what I fear. Everything will change now. I fear that all his heart will belong to her now – even the small part that was devoted only to our friendship.”

“Change is always difficult. And yet, perhaps one day, you too shall wed. Do you think that would change your love for him?”

“No,” he said immediately. “No. He is special. He taught me about myself. He gave me confidence. You are right, of course; a part of my heart will always belong to him.”

“My beautiful, strong son.” Istime pressed a kiss to his brow. “If you don't know what to write, why don't you ride to the city and give them your answer in person?”

Laurefindil pressed her hand in thanks. “I might just do that, emmë!”