"You would like Imladris, beloved. It is truly beautiful."
I lay the slightly-wilting wildflowers on her grave — ashamed to have forgotten their names, despite her frequent attempts to teach me.
Duty and sacrifice define a Dúnadan's life. Yet Ivorwen tried to help me see the beauty of bright flowers, glowing sunsets, and bare landscapes.
But I had eyes only for her beauty. My stubbornness exasperated her; often she teased me for it. Memories of her laughter warm my heart still.
Gilraen is so much like her mother... better that Ivorwen did not live to watch us spirit her away forever.
"Elladan and Elrohir brought bitter tidings today. To protect Aragorn, Elrond bids us not to visit Imladris or reveal our family ties.
"Even his own proud name must be forsaken: he is called Estel now.
"They assure me Elrond acts as father to our grandson, giving him the care and guidance he needs — but it is not the same. Our daughter dwells among strangers, and I cannot go to comfort her."
I brush aside the dried leaves drifting across Ivorwen's grave.
"Our people have ever been bound by duty and sacrifice... but it is family that has helped us endure."