My sister and started working on this some time ago; it is called a latter game, where we both assume characters in a fixed setting and write letters to eachother in character. Sort of like role-playing, exept a bit more controled.
This is set some months after the War of the Ring, before everything is quite settled down while many things are still changing. The two girls who are writting eachother are healers, one from Dol Amroth, the other a Gondorian. Durring the battle and the months of recovery they became fast friends.

My dear Eleiel,

I feel I have sufficiently recovered from the journey to fulfil my promise of writing to you. Never mind that we only arrived last night and Mistress Nithuir insists that we all require rest. I am supposed to be sleeping in the little room I share with Firiel and Eruanne, but I have slipped out into the herb garden with my writing supplies. Besides, Firiel makes such noises in her sleep that I find it impossible to attain repose. How Eruanne can stand it escapes my knowledge.

Oh, I hear the waves crashing around the docks on the lower level of the city. And the sharp, tangy, wild scent of salty, untamed water rushes to overwhelm me. I had not realized that I missed my home so much while in Minas Tirith.

Our cities seem very similar in regard to structure and appearance, yet I find myself relieved to be among the familiar cool, shadowed streets and hear talk of ballast and cargoes and canvas sail and other nautical concerns. So little has changed, and yet so much!

There is no longer the undercurrent of an inevitable storm, and the fierce control with which we governed ourselves has loosened into a jubilant assurance and… well, I cannot find words to describe it. It is something like relief, yet closer to exuberance, and while the manner in which we socialize and treat each other has not changed, there is a secret joy that illuminates on all our actions. Father says Dol Amroth has probably not seen such a spirit as everyone now possess in over a hundred years.

I spent the morning visiting with my family. Mother was overjoyed that I was not harmed, and looks at me with shining eyes. Father tells me she has spent my months in Minas Tirith in a state of constant worry. My younger brothers wanted to hear about the Battle of Pelennor Fields, and were most disappointed that I would tell them nothing. My own memories of the battlefield are quite horrid, though I suppose that fifteen and twelve year old boys would not be similarly affected. Berianir then questioned me about matters of defense, and how the ballistae were constructed. Thanks to you and your cousin I was able to give him the information he desired.

Ellureth then climbed in my lap and asked if I brought anything back for her. I gave her and little Thenid the ribbons you picked out for me, and they were both overjoyed. Thenid seems almost afraid of me, but then she is only three years old and has not seen me for nigh on six months, and I was never her favorite. Living with the Healers as I do, I cannot be at home to spoil her like the rest of the family does. I shall have to attempt to win her confidence again.

My father walked me back to the Healers’ House and I talked to him all about Minas Tirith, my reactions to the horrors of war, and the friends I made (especially you). He smiled and told me all about the concerns of Dol Amroth. I found the news of my home simultaneously strange and welcoming. It will expose my state of mind when I tell you I was most relieved to hear that Lady Aranel had accepted the hand of Lord Elvedir and not his brother Lord Malen. Yet there is scarcely a difference between the two brothers that I can credit with this relief!

Mistress Nithuir, seeing me from her window, just called out anxiously to see if I am well. I assured her that I am, and then she requested me to bring her a handful of poppies. She is preparing for the upcoming birth of Lord Elphir’s second child.

His first child, the spunky and wild young Alphros, came with his mother after the mid-day meal to talk with the Mistress. Apparently now that Lady Lothiriel is back, Lady Annuwen feels she can entrust the care of her unborn child to her sister-in-law. Mistress said no, that Lothiriel should rest and regain her strength before undertaking her position as Healer again. Then she sent all twelve of us who had made the journey to bed for the afternoon.

When Lady Lothiriel asked me to be one of her party accompanying her father to Minas Tirith, I never thought I would tire of the excitement and honor shown to me. That I, an assistant healer only eight months in the Healers’ House, should go to work on a field of battle was beyond my highest ambition. Yet now I heartily long to be caring for expectant mothers and babes again, and other little things that the most junior healer can accomplish.

There are actually some Rohirrim in the City. They have been carrying messages between Prince Imrahil and Eomer King for sometime, according to my father. I do wish that I had attended the funeral of Théoden King in Edoras with you and Lady Lothiriel. Unfortunate that I am so deathly afraid of horses.

I still say that I found Eomer King a most handsome man, despite your opinion. He has such an easy, powerful bearing, and yet such a sense of humor! That last night before leaving your city, he was teasing his companions so. His eyes sparkled with laughter as he invited the elf and dwarf into “another game”. I am not quite sure what he was talking about, but Lady Lothiriel and I, (who were standing barely two yards away,) could not stop giggling at the looks on their faces.

(Speaking of the elf, I have to tell you that his looks have always reminded me of you. You both have the same upright, graceful carriage, same long golden hair, and same delicacy of feature. Were it not for dress and height you might be mistaken for one another from the back. I do envy you the gracefulness; I am as clumsy-looking as a swan out of water!)

The trip was uneventful. We sailed down the Anduin to the sea, went around Belfalas and docked at Dol Amroth. Most of the healers chatted on deck or relaxed in the hold. There were no storms, as you were so worried there would be. Lady Lothiriel seemed unusually silent, and in moments when we were alone, I had to initiate most of the conversation. And you know how I am about talking. The least said, the better.

But she looked very sad, and I could not in right conscience leave her like that. So told her all about your opinions on the herb motherwort, and what your cousin thought about defense strategies. I am so awful at coming up with original, interesting conversation. Then in desperation I told her (with some gentle sarcasm) the similarities I had observed between you and the Elvish Prince. She was smiling until I mentioned my comparison of a swan out of water. Her good humor vanished like ice in the summer, and her weariness came back tenfold, even when I hastened to assure her that swans look very graceful when they are flying out of water.

The girls are beginning to wake and bustle about the house. I hear Firiel calling. A courier ship is departing for Minas Tirith tomorrow, so you should have this letter within the month.

Navaer, mellon nin.


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