The valley was older now. Even the rivers spoke in lower tones, their laughter softened by centuries. I had come to believe there was nothing left that could startle me—no new light, no face untouched by sorrow. The Third Age keeps endurance, not wonder.

Then the herald spoke her name.

“Her Grace, Eärwa-Fäe Singollo, Sovereign of Taur Im Duinath, Lady of the Living Rivers, and Keeper of the Moonwell.”

It struck like music remembered after silence. And I looked up.

She entered as if the years had bowed to her instead of passing by—silver and moss, calm as the moon reflected in a still river. Her crown of birch gleamed softly in the torchlight, and her bearing drew every gaze in the hall. The air itself seemed to hold its breath as she crossed the threshold.

Around me, I heard the whispers begin—soft, uncertain, reverent.

Gandalf smokes on his pipe “She’s unchanged.”

Boromir mouth is gapping "I've never seen a more stunning elven queen... He rose to greet her—did you see?”

I did not hear the rest. My pulse drowned them out.

The envoy I had once been stirred again within me—the boy who once stood before her, parchment trembling in his hand. I remembered the rivers of her realm, how they had mirrored her calm, and how her counsel had shaped my first understanding of peace. I had meant to write to her after that meeting. I never did.

Now she stood across the table from me, unaged and unbowed, her gaze sweeping the room with measured grace. When it found mine, for the briefest heartbeat, the centuries folded into silence.

She must think me faithless, I thought. How many letters did I owe her, and never sent?

Gil-galad’s name was invoked in welcome, but I barely heard it. The council resumed its talk of borders and threats, of shadows gathering once more beyond the Misty Mountains. Yet all I could think was how even the darkest ages could not touch her light.

And as the whispers faded and parchment shifted again, I asked myself the question that had haunted every version of me:

How am I to endure this meeting, when the one I built this valley to remember now walks within it once more?