A wisp of wind
Unrests the peaceful
Calm of the still water.
My hair blows dark against
The pure white of the far off sky,
And I look out across the sea,
Watching the small speck of ship
Nearing the end of the horizon.
My dress stirs in the cresting wind as I
Finger the cold jewel adorning my neck,
Pressed silver against my skin.
Aragorn… his endless pleas for me to ride
The blue waves across the sea to Valinor.
I would miss him too much if
I took his advice. Oh Elrond Papa my father…