Tengwar Drabbles by cílil

Yanta

Elrond seeks out a kindred spirit.

Night has fallen and the moon shines over Imladris, but Lord Elrond sleeps not. 

As if bound by the invisible spell of soundless song, he walks down to the river. There is light in his eyes, like the star of Eärendil. 

Elrond stands on the bridge and looks down at the rushing water below, searching for something other eyes can't see. 

There is a presence hidden within, one that answers only him. An ancient, beautiful face, wide dark eyes and silvery skin, a voice singing in a strange language. 

Smiling, Elrond listens to them, and something in his fëa understands.