A tear told at twilight.

Title: A told tear at twilight.
Author: Fishy (fishyz9@yahoo.com)
Beta: Kei.
Rating: PG.
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: A small story of what I like to think happened to those creatures we so love.

A tear told at twilight.

Before our time, there were those who lived in purity and innocence. Though not without their trials and grief, they were great and ever splendid, eternally young even now, as they sway above, cover and protect the living breath and prayer of all that is good. They lived in form when days were long, and fought only in great and important battles, not for any petty prejudice or unrightfully existing injustice.

Light touched them, transpired through, enabled, and gave life and beauty to them. Their gaze was long, their hearing piercing. Their senses were heightened in everyway, making them powerful, yet forever humble.

‘What are these creatures?’ you ask. ‘The firstborn,’ I tell you. 'The purest form of life that has ever walked upon this, yours and my own ground.'

I tell you this because it gladdens my heart, as I wish it to yours, this knowing that such profound wonder once did and, in its overlooked, and perhaps unseen, but none the less hovering line of light and strength, still does exist. That it is there when you look upon your babe. That it graces you when you fall in love. That it is strongest when you are at your most weak. That it holds you up on your last stand, through your last ounce of strength when you grieve for whatever loss that may befall you. They are the great yawn and loud roar of dawn, the silent hush and soothing dimness of dusk.

They are eternal hope and, our connection to one another. They are our good, our pride and binding blood. The forever young live above us, with and for us. They are as we are at our most commendable, protective and cherished, as I am yours and you mine. They fill our lungs and shine down upon us during the night. They move between the leaves and our outstretched fingers as the wind blows, their gentle touch ever bringing a tear to our eyes, both when we are inconsolable, and when we are glad.

You look around you now, after hearing my words, praying for them to be true. And they are. Look up where the sun split’s the sky, red and yellow, violet and blue. Look down where your toes feel the fresh grass reach between them. Close your tremulous thoughts away, close your eyes and hear them as they whisper, as they laugh and sigh upon the breeze. But mostly, gaze to the north and then to the south, smell the night air and, finally, see what it is that turns above you, spirals and burns in the distant pitch of night, always just at the tips of your fingers and almost within you grasp.

‘The stars?’ you ask.

'An Unwittingly just name'. Though I would also say our inspiration, strength and laughter, both knowledgeable and impressionable, the new the old .Those that facet and glow in their millions, those stars are the lives of ages too long ago to be accounted amongst our understanding and legends. Though, there they are, above. Above and around, always.

‘During the night, yes. What of the day?’

Oh thirsty inquisitive one.

‘You say they are the colours of the sky, the fresh scent of cold rain, and the stars at night. But when are they at their most bright, most evident and enigmatic?’

Ah well, here is a tale for you. When these creatures loved, they loved greatly and with all they had. One great love settles in my mind. It was between two so very taken by love at, indeed, first sight, though doomed due to its youth. One fell, and the other waited. More than an age did he wait, until, finally, they were together once more. A tale of woe and heartache, a tale of blinding resolution and loving peace. For the rest of their days upon this earth they loved.

Eventually, their kind, when the time for our birth dwindled close, sailed to their homeland. And there they lived and loved, but time, even for an immortal, can become too expansive and long. They changed, they turned to wisps of breath and mist. They became the earth and sun you see, and mostly, they became our stars.

‘What of those two, the great love you spoke of?” you ask me now.

And I smile as I feel a lighter air about me. For the most beautiful of all loves are the most plainly evident and meant to be, the most brilliant and dazzling, and the most obvious, foolish one. You see, these two were as different as can be. One as bright and innocent as summer’s warmth, and the other as intimate and delicate as morning’s dew. One as black and deep as the slumbering and peaceful night. The other as golden and uplifting as the uncountable days to breathe and move. Yet such difference did not encroach upon the insurmountable, the undeniable, bounty of love that was always meant to, and always would be.

Those two became our day and night. And that is why I tell you this tale now. It is twilight, a time of crossover and brief meeting and the joining of a love so great and old. And there is a tear in your eye now, as there is mine, as you see, for the briefest of moments, day and night meet.

During the twilight the world is at its most quiet. The stars are hushed, and the ground stills as the sky bleeds its colours into one another. Day melds into night as all stop and listen, to what they know not. But they know it is a time to be silent, to gaze, and to see. To be grateful for this brief and quiet moment that brings a told tear at twilight

The End.