4. Midwinter Spring
Daeron for Lúthien, forsaking Doriath, searching for her in Eriador
Once you danced. Amid the seasons you were dancing alone. You stood in the frosted valley but in your eyes it was abloom. Your feet touched the watery earth, above the tides of time. The gold-leafed autumn lived with the fresh spring, contour in contour, in your step. The inveterate morning travelled in your grace. In Doriath you danced to my song, and like the niphredil my words sprang from the earth. They fled from me like a breath. They returned to me, visions of your flashing arms that sped the snowy glens into green. Translucent, and vast, in Doriath that is lost beyond the mountains.
But now the light fractures on my words. The stars are cold and broken. The dawn laps on barren lands and subsides my joy. The winter has eaten away all the greenness from the land. And neither high nor infinite is my soul, that looks for you everywhere. But nowhere are you. Oh Lúthien! I remember so much. On each strand of my scattered hair I can count them: when in midwinter the wind moans in the peaks and wallows in the plains I can almost hear in its sound the sweet notes of spring. Ah, Lúthien. Such is the false spring of your memories.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.
