Chapter Text
Arwen has been writing the letters since she was old enough to know how to write. It had been her own idea, once she understood that she had family beyond the sea, in far off Elvenhome where they would all go someday, when Sauron was defeated and Ennor was safe for their mortal cousins. All her kin await them there, saving only her father’s brother Elros and his descendants, and Luthien and Beren of course.
In those early days, the letters had been little more than a child’s gesture, well-meant messages sent with nothing more than the faith of the very young that of course letters arrive at the person they are addressed to, no matter how wide a sea they must cross.
As she grew older, Arwen occasionally wondered if she should continue. The communication is, after all, one-sided. She had no way of knowing if they reached her mother’s grandparents or her father’s parents, much less what these relatives she knew only from stories thought of these hopeful scribbles from a child born on the Hither Shores. The only one who had come from beyond the sea since the War of Wrath is Glorfindel, and he arrived well before she was born.
When Mithrandir first visited Imladris, not long after the Istari reached Middle Earth, he told her with a twinkle in his kindly eyes that her letters are always eagerly awaited and handed her the only reply she will ever receive, which bears all the love her kin – not only her father’s parents and her mother’s grandparents, but many, many more than she had expected, and some she was surprised to see - can compress into paltry sheets of paper. From that most precious packet, she learned that she and her brothers are held very dear across the sea. Their ship, whenever it finally arrives, will be greeted with joy.
Since then, she has written as often as she finds messengers to bear her missives into the West. Every ship that departs Mithlond carries at least one, and sometimes a whole bundle of letters, kept safe by Cirdan until the next sailing, for years or even decades may pass between ships.
Some letters are simple chatter, marked only by small things, happenings that would be of little interest if her readers were here to see for themselves – her brothers’ first time leading an orc patrol, her success in learning the harp.
Others tell of more momentous news – the birth of her baby sister, the only child in the family to inherit the golden hair of her grandmother’s kin. A few have borne grievous tidings westward – there was one written the day they had finally accepted that her mother and sister were lost to them, and if they reached Valinor it would be by way of Lord Namo’s halls. Arwen’s tears had splattered the ink of that one, as she begged her grandparents to look for her Nana and her sweet nethig, for surely they would not linger long in Mandos. Glorfindel had assured her Namo was kind and her sister would not be afraid.
She could scarce contain her happiness the day that she is able, hundreds of years later, to take up her pen to tell of the unexpected blessing that had befallen Imladris and Lothlorien – Celebrían and Anariel have returned, and Arwen has a new sister. True, she did not tell the full tale of Tindomiel, but she saw no harm in leaving out details that worry her sisters and father. There will be time enough to tell it in person one day.
Her only annoyance is that her younger sisters cannot write for themselves. While both claim to be able to write, they use runes never seen before in Arda. Neither one knows tengwar, not even enough to sign their names. Anariel scrawls what she says is ‘Buffy’ at the end of the letter at Arwen’s prompting, and then with the twins’ help patiently explains what each symbol means- and that they do not have names as tengwar do- so that her older sister can transcribe it into something understandable. It is only with great persuasion that Arwen is able to convince her to do the same with her given name, though she does at least pay attention to what Arwen writes beneath it, and even asks which words are her names.
Unfortunately, that is all the progress Anariel makes before their brothers whisk her and her mortal gwador and gwethil off to Lothlorien.
By the time Arwen, Tindomiel, and her parents join them, Tindomiel is good enough at both Sindarin and writing in tengwar to attempt a few lines of her own at the end of one of her sister’s letters. The hand is still somewhat childish, but Arwen is confident that with a few more years practice, Tindomiel’s script will be as elegant as her own or Ada’s.
The letter Arwen writes when they reach Lothlorien will be a thing of joy to Finarfin and his wife, because she successfully corrals not only her sisters (including Anariel, who could now at least write her own name in tengwar, if nothing else) and brothers, but also her parents and grandparents into all adding something to the letter. She is also able to include something else dear – Haldir’s younger brother Rumil is a wonderful artist and manages to sketch all of them at some point, even her sister’s mortal brother and sisters of the heart. One picture of the group of them all sharing a moment of laughter is so well done that Arwen is able to part with it only when Rumil solemnly promises her another.
That letter promptly grows longer still, because Anariel’s sworn siblings ask about it, and then wish to write their names and send greetings, even though they know they will never see Valinor or meet the people who read their words. They take great delight in seeing how Arwen decides to transcribe their names, as they themselves have been writing them differently. Xander at one point has both sets of names written out by Tindomiel and asks Rumil and Haldir to read them out, listening for any differences. He is chagrined to discover that Arwen’s transcription of his name leads the two galadhrim to speak his name closer to how he pronounces it than what he had devised for himself.
His betrothed and his sisters have no sympathy for him, as it is plain to them that Arwen’s choice will be the better one- after all, she has been writing tengwar all her long life, so of course she knows better than they do the sounds that go with them, alone or combined. Anya mollifies him by pointing out that he can write Arwen’s name in California runes, which he does.
Then Anariel laughs and says they may as well write all the letters, since there are fewer of them than tengwar. She writes them out, in what Arwen is assured is a very clear hand, but then Tindomiel protests that they’ve left out all the combinations and rules, because there are very few California runes that stand for one sound only. Arwen is forced to call a halt to their efforts and promise that Anariel and Tindomiel will write a longer treatise on the subject at some later date – the letter has already grown to the size of a book as it is.
Her next letter is sparser, but she must share the shocking news that Anariel has earned herself the epessë Dagnis by managing to get herself included in the Battle of Five Armies and slaying a number of yrch and warg that Arwen is certain Thranduil must have exaggerated. She can’t imagine her tiny sister so deadly, especially not when first Haldir and then Celeborn both report she is a cheerful as ever and none the worse for what they call her first battle. (Arwen flatly refuses to countenance the idea that her sister will be involved in further battles, and thinks that if Anariel really would seek out such trouble, Ada should send her West for her own protection. Then she remembers that he cannot do that without inflicting terrible pain, for Xander, Anya, Tara, and Willow cannot follow her sister across the Sea. She ends up having to cross out quite a bit and explain herself.)
She wonders, as she sometimes does, what their kin across the Sea make of such news, but she would much rather they hear it from her than by chance from someone who has departed Ennor. She takes care, though, to finish the section on her her sister’s doings on a positive note.
Grandmother and Grandfather both say my sister is much like Grandmother’s brother Findaráto. Grandmother says she has the same generous spirit and noble heart, although Grandfather mutters that they also share a deplorable lack of common sense. Anariel says that she hopes Findaráto and Amarië are happy. I hope that Anariel will write to you herself soon. You would know her much better if she would put her own words to paper than you can through mine. (I am reading this aloud to her.) But I am sure you will love her as we do when you meet her.
Arwen does not want them to worry.