The fabled island of Tinnudir does not disappoint. The spires reach up and try to touch the stars, and below, many rangers and other visitors gather around campfires. The island seems like an island of refuge and the lake a crystal clear, still-as-glass oasis, if you will, in the middle of a dangerous wilderness.
I understand that for some Men, especially those of the North, this is a place to pay homage to one’s ancestors. However, I feel that for Men, many places must be proper to pay homage, given the bloody wars they have won and lost, how many of their ranks fell defeated and rose victorious. It is their way.
I cannot help but feel proud for the race of Man. Their glory, their joy, their sorrow… I think they must feel these things more because of their regrettably short lives. So much to do in so little time. they throw their heart into things and charge forth into battle… into life with the most intense drive to do so. It is honorable, I think. As we seek to stay outside of it, to live a life of peace and contemplation, as we prepare to join our predecessors in Valinor… They are a glimmer – no – a sparkling fire signifying hope, and the shortness, fragility and VALUE they place on life. They strive, they suffer, but always they are trying for more. It’s beautiful.
The brutality of war, the calm of peace, the suffering, joy, pain, happiness and excitement of being… well, mortal… must be intense. It must be worth living for. Dying for. I can approve of and respect these qualities. I must say… They are not us. But they are, most of them, an honorable people, full of life and hope, a belief that they can make things better.