As he carefully wrote a reply to Círdan's latest message, Tuor was glad of having taken the time to learn back in Gondolin, even if he doubted he'd ever develop a fair hand.
Idril had been appalled when she found that he could neither write nor read, but Annael's Elves had no such luxuries as paper or parchment in their cave, nor, in the struggle to survive, would there have been time to teach him. The Easterlings did not write, beyond tally marks, and even if they had, they wouldn't have taught a slave. Tuor shrugged. That was the past.
Written for RiverOtter's birthday 2012
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.