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So it came to pass, some years ere the coming of Oromë, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return.
- The Silmarillion, “Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor”
Those who were healed could be re-born, if they desired it.
- Morgoth’s Ring, “Of Re-birth and Other Dooms of Those that go to Mandos”
In the small, second-story bedroom, there was a small, hand-carved bed. On the bed, there was a soft, down-filled pillow, a cheerful blue-and-yellow quilt, and a rag-stuffed bunny with floppy ears.
“Do you think she remembers bunnies?” asked the Elf-man. He was very, very old. It had been many years since he had held the hand of a child.
“They said she would be returned to us as she once was,” said the Elf-woman. She was as old as the man. “She might remember.”
There was a wooden rocking chair, a little table with a lamp, and stars painted on the ceiling. In the mornings, the rising Sun would stream gold and orange over the Pelóri and into the east-facing window. Or would, if they removed the thick, dark curtains.
The woman wrung her hands. “They said she might not like the Sun, at first.”
The man nodded. “She might not.”
“I made honey lembas. She might not like it. It’s very sweet.”
“That is true.”
The woman ran her fingers over the tiny stitches of the quilt. It had taken weeks to get them just right. “What if she cannot sleep? She has never slept in a bed. Only moss, or—” (She did not know where orcs slept, but surely, it was not in beds.)
“Then we will take her outside to sleep under the stars.”
“Yes,” said the woman. “I used to like sleeping beneath the stars.” She took the man’s hand and together, they went downstairs to await their arrival.