I spent some time in Rivendell again, today.  I think perhaps I miss the company of others of my kind, a little bit.  I sat at a workbench for a while and thought, and sewed, and created beautiful things without a thought of to whom I would give them – I supposed that would work out later.  After a while, Rivendell, as beautiful and serene and calming as it is, with my kind around me and waterfalls tumbling over rocks, became… boring.  So, I swiftly rode back to Bree, before I met up with any of my compatriots.

Wandering around Bree is a completely different experience than Lórien or Rivendell.  Men go about their lives so differently.  They are boisterous, engaged in the moment, in the world.  And then, I found a sobering reminder of how different from them I am… we are.  

These boxes… they’re coffins.  A stark and startling reminder of the fragile mortality of Men.  Their short lives, into which they try to fit as much love, honor, suffering, anger, feeling, meaning, anger, hatred and friendship as possible.  Imagine having such a mere fraction of time.

In some ways, it is a beautiful thought.  So many men have come and gone, their names either committed to or forgotten by history, in this one life I’ve led.  One life so peaceful and stoic and serene, that for so many years, countless almost, I never even set foot outside our beautiful homeland.

But here I am, here in Bree.  Standing in shock, and maybe awe, of the reminder that men are such short-lived creatures.  Do you think they become tired, and bored, with so few years?

I’m not sure…


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