When It Rains

Prologue: "What becomes of the broken-hearted?"

Belfalas TA 2015

It was exactly the type of day that Mithrellas loved. The bright summer sun brought a renewed colour to the garden and the petals of each flower were highlighted with a soft glow. The wind whispered softly through the leaves of the nearby trees, bringing with it the scent of salt, tingeing the air and mixing with the floral scent of the garden. Faintly she could hear the distant lull of the waves on the calm sea, a lone cry of a gull in flight.

At times like this Mithrellas felt truly at peace. In such calm she could more easily reflect on the events in her past with distant eyes. Running her fingers delicately over the petals of a nearby flower, she thought back to some of the grief in her life: the home she had left for her love of her dearest friend Nimrodel, only to lose her; the loss of her kin, her lord; and the love she had found and fought so hard against. She had searched for so long in those distant days, trying desperately to find Nimrodel, find her companions…find herself…, but it had all come to naught. When, finally, she had reached Edhellond it had been too late to reach her lord, and Amroth had perished. The grief she had felt then, the anguish and the helplessness, were still etched vividly in her mind. She had felt so desperately alone and so utterly lost. Until Imrazôr found her.

Even now, just thinking of his name made her smile. Imrazôr had been her saviour –a joy unexpected and unhoped for in times of despair. There had been several opportunities over the years to make her way across the sea with her brethren, but still she stayed. She could not part from him. It felt almost as if she was inexorably drawn to him, unable to keep him and incapable of letting him go. Imrazôr: the mortal man whom she had taken as her husband. Her path in life had been sealed from the first, and she must tread those fateful steps…no matter how painful it would one day prove to be.

"Nana! Nana, look!"

Mithrellas glanced up to see her darling little daughter running towards her, hands cupped together around some new excitement she had discovered.

"Nana, look!" Gilmith's beaming face looked up expectantly at her mother. Her thick dark curls and silvery grey eyes were that of a true Númenórean and both in the image of her father. Her features though, soft and delicate, were much like her mother's and a testament to her elven heritage.

Mithrellas knelt down to see what was nestled in her daughter's palms. She gently pushed the little fingers apart, revealing the dainty creature inside, and smiled.

"It is really pretty is it not, Nana?" Gilmith bounced around from foot to foot. "Can I keep it? Please. I will look after it, I promise."

Mithrellas' smile saddened a little as she shook her head. "I am sure you would look after it vey well, my darling, but I am afraid you cannot keep it." Gently, she extricated the little creature from her daughter's hold and placed it carefully on a nearby flower. There it sat, on its newfound home, contentedly flexing its wings.

Gilmith's lip began to wobble. "But I wish to keep it," she whined.

"I know, darling. But their lives are very short," Mithrellas soothed. "It will only have but a few more days to live and then its beautiful life will be gone from our sight." She reached out to tenderly smooth dark curls away from her daughter's forehead, a desolate look marring her face. "We must not shut it away for the duration of the little time it has left. Its life is too short and precious. Let it go now, dearest. I would not have you break your tender heart to watch it fade." She blinked quickly, preventing any unshed tears from forming.

Gilmith nodded slowly, before, with a shriek of delight, her attention was caught by the sight of her father and brother over her mother's shoulder, broad smiles on their faces as they entered the garden. Gilmith was deftly swept up into the arms of her father for a swift embrace and a kiss on the cheek before, giggling, she wriggled out of his hold and, throwing a quick mischievous look at her brother, skipped off across the grass. Galador walked over to his mother briefly for a cursory hug, permitting her to kiss him on the top of his head, before running off to chase his sister.

"Have you had a pleasant afternoon, beloved?" Imrazôr came up behind his wife, wrapping his arms about her waist and nuzzling at the nape of her neck.

"Very pleasant, my love," Mithrellas replied breezily, keeping a watchful eye on her happily frolicking children. "How did our son fare on your sailing trip?"

Imrazôr chuckled. "He did very well, all things considered. I let him use the tiller this time and he managed it quite steadily for a boy of his age." Mithrellas did not miss the pride in his voice, his love for his family forever steadfast and unerring. "Perhaps all four of us can go together next time? As a family. I believe Gilmith will enjoy it."

Turning her head to one side, Mithrellas looked up to see his face – so handsome and so beloved. He was, perhaps, not as fair as those of her own race, but he was infinitely beautiful in her eyes. Loving, compassionate and strong. So much to hold, and so much to lose.

"Yes, I should like that very much." As she leant back into the strong, welcoming arms of the mortal man she loved with all her heart, she tried not to let her melancholy breach her happy afternoon. She knew very well that had no hope of sharing his fate, nor he hers, but, for now, she would find contentment in her family – her life, her joy.