4. Midwinter Spring
Daeron for Lúthien, forsaking Doriath, searching for her in Eriador
Once you danced. In Doriath you danced alone. You stood in the frosted valley and all around you bloomed. The gold-leafed autumn lived with the fresh spring, contour in contour, in your steps. The inveterate morning travelled in your grace. In Doriath you danced to my song, and like the niphredil my words sprang from the earth, limpid and sweet, blooming from the mind like a breath. They danced in me, visions of your flashing limbs among the hemlock leaves. Translucent, and vast. In Doriath that is lost beyond the mountains.
But now the light fractures in my words. The stars are cold and broken. The dawn laps on barren lands and eats the greenness from the grass. And neither high nor infinite is my soul, that looks for you everywhere. But nowhere are you. O Lúthien! I remember so much. When in midwinter the wind moans in the peaks and wallows in the plains I can almost hear in its sound the sweet notes of spring. O Lúthien. Such is the false spring of your memories.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.