Unmoored from Our Scars
@tolkiengenweek
For Day Four (Solo)
It is the early Third Age. Cirdan learns to live with his losses again.
It was hard at first, walking through the streets of Mithlond, remembering with every step how things used to be, before the Age ended, before so many had fallen in Mordor or before its Gates, and others had left on those ships they built, he and those who remained with him. Time passed. That great pain did not heal, but became livable. And one day someone made a joke, an old one that had been around for centuries. Cirdan found he could remember Gil luminous with laughter at it, now, without flames interposing themselves, and laughed longer than it deserved.
Written at a SWG Insta-drabbling event, but previously only posted under lock.
