Uilossiel's eyes flickered up to the mirror hanging beside her bed. She blinked incredulously at the reflection staring back at her - raven hair pulled up in a formal knot, clad in a dress the colour of the summer sky, and draped in a white-winged mantle. A new-kindled fire shone bright in her grey eyes, and she held her head with the pride of her father's people, a far cry from her usual unassuming, bookish manner. She touched the silver medallion hung around her neck with reverence, running her fingers along the figure of a bathing swan decorated with jewels. Wrought by the Elven-smiths of Vinyamar in the First Age, it was a marvellous treasure, made all the more precious by the House it signified.
I have sworn my allegiance to Bar-en-Vanimar, bound by oath of fealty to its Lords and to its honour, she mused. But this is an oath bringing hope rather than ruin, not as the Oath which the Exiles had sworn of old.
Though a brief journey to Lindon on business for Lord Erestor had delayed her oath-taking, she had written to Lord Anglachelm as soon as she could spare the time. And today, barely an enquië after her return to Imladris, she had stood before Lords Anglachelm and Tindir and pledged herself to Bar-en-Vanimar. She had found the combined gaze of the two lords slightly unnerving, but the words of the Oath had rolled off her lips seamlessly, in the High-Elven tongue of the Noldor. And the kind smiles from those of the House gathered to witness the event had helped calm her nerves. Lady Maephaer, a healer and student of Lord Laurelindo, had kindly stepped forward as witness to her oath. Eilanneth and Alcarinwë, whom she remembered from the music contest, had been present, as well as another ellon garbed in scarlet and gold, who she did not recognize.
Carefully, she undid the clasp of the medallion, setting it inside its ornate case lined with purple velvet. Nolomírë, the Jewel of Wisdom, Lord Tindir had called it, telling her that her wisdom would be of much use to their House in the days to come. She did not consider herself wise, when compared with Lord Elrond, or even Lord Erestor, but merely a simple scholar. Still, she had been heartened by his words, and felt joy that she had now offered her skills in service to Vanimar. When all the ceremony had concluded, Lord Tindir had taken his harp, and had begun to play an old anthem. The sight of such a renowned lord and warrior with harp in his hands had stirred pride and longing within her. Even now, in the solitude of her own rooms, she could hear the echo of his song.
For we are the memory of the land;
Its very blood runs through our hearts
And with our voice we fill with light
The souls of those who boldly fight.
The ancient melody recalled the glory of the Noldor and the beauty of the past, now forever lost. Yet they lived anew in that moment, as they had whenever she had opened a tome of history or found an ancient artifact.
Such is the power of word and song, she reflected. Though I cannot wield a sword for my House, I shall wield my pen to much better effect. And with pen and harp, I will keep the memory of my people and my House alive as I have sworn, even unto the world's ending -
Tenn' Ambar-metta!
