My Dear Finduilas by Luxa

Chapter 1

My dear Finduilas,

I write you this letter in hopes that I have not forgotten the words to do so. I ask that you forgive the penmanship, for it is hard to keep your quill steady when you have lost a hand. You will also have to forgive the quality of this paper. There is much to forgive, as you can see.

I escaped. Those two words are almost unbearable to write, but there they are. I escaped. I’m free. And yet I wonder- has the enemy only pretended to let me escape, secretly planning to use me for some nefarious purpose? I feel as though I am trapped in a story not my own, only to be utilized by a darker purpose, to fill some evil plot.

This is not why I am writing you. My mind wanders even when I do my best to focus. I think of torments I have suffered, the things I have seen, the deaths of those I love, real or imagined. I think of these things instead of the subject at hand.

And that subject is…my dear Finduilas, I may never make it back to you. I may never see you again. May. I use the word as though it is likely that I will see you again, as though seeing you again is the probable outcome, when really it is so far-fetched that even my dreams cannot connect us.

I will probably never see you again.

The thought hurts more than anything Morgoth did to me.

I miss you so much. I miss you so much. I can’t do anything, see anything, go anywhere, without thinking of you. I miss you. I think of little else.

And yet you will never know, because this letter will never reach you. That is what hurts most of all. I have no way to send it to you other than to bring it to you myself, and you should rightfully laugh at that suggestion. Oh, what I would give to hear your laugh. But seeing you again is a fantasy I have no hope of, so I write this in vain in hopes to assuage my pain, and I wish you well.

Perhaps I will let this go in the wind and hope that it takes this letter to you. It is more hope than I have right now.

Your once beloved,

Gwindor