What’s your emotional support inanimate object in Elrond’s house? Mine is the haunted armchair in the east corridor that sighs when I sit down.
Ah. A most excellent question—and one that I have pondered far more often than I care to admit aloud.
Now, many would assume that my emotional support inanimate object would be something sensible. A favored quill. A well-worn scroll. The particularly plush pillow in the library that might be enchanted to hum lullabies from the Second Age (I neither confirm nor deny this).
But no.
My emotional support object in Elrond’s house is—and I say this with full sincerity—the large decorative vase in the hallway leading to the west balcony.
Yes, that one.
The one no one is entirely sure where it came from, with the faded patterns of swans and a suspiciously smug-looking elf painted on the side. I lean against it when I am exhausted. I whisper into it when no one will listen. I have cried next to it twice. Once, I may have hugged it. Desperate times.
It is always cold to the touch, dignified, and unmoving—much like Lord Erestor on a bad day—and thus incredibly comforting. It listens. It judges silently. It bears the weight of my spiraling emotional state and the occasional tea spill with stoic grace.
I once named it Vaesilien, Keeper of My Sanity during a particularly bad day of festival planning. I told Eredin. He did not blink. He simply nodded and placed a small crocheted scarf around its rim. That’s how we all cope here.
Your haunted sighing armchair and my silent emotional vase would, I believe, get along famously.
