Tianwen·Magweth Pengolodh

- Chilled preserves.When he accepted this, he thought of the ordinary ways to cool off the summer heat at Alfwine's house, and couldn't help being a little ashamed, but he still accepted it.He also noticed that the squires and maids who attended to him were all in their prime, and unusually handsome.

Pengolod diligently read the literature to convince himself of the luxuries around him.Noof's problems haunted him everywhere, and not just for Noof's sake.If he has the answer, he can tell Alfwine, saying: You are born the way you are, and for this reason, and those who laugh at you and hurt you are wrong.He tried to search for Númenórean lore in this field, but the results surprised him.He was fascinated by the various books and pamphlets of the Healers - Healers of the past, for the study of bodily imperfections had come to an end during Tar-Minastir's reign.He shook his head as he read a recent folio report, a treatise by a self-proclaimed expert on the ideal beauty of mortals.It spared no effort to draw a large number of so-called perfect facial lines and figures, indicating the degree of angle and symmetry.Pengolod could not understand how a mortal could spend so much of his life doing this kind of work.

Not finding what he was looking for, Pengolod turned to another category of the library.Other questions surfaced, like lifting a rock to reveal a lizard crouching underneath.The philosophers of Númenor did not speculate for lameness and beauty.For them, death is the more important subject.The silent tombs challenged the mystery of death, and they begged the dead to bring back even a little insight.Pengolod had been distracted for an entire day by their rich vocabulary for death.Countless words are used to describe every aspect of a funeral or mourning ceremony, as well as the objects and decorations in a tomb.They also have various accounts of what awaits after death the soul leaving the confines of the world, portraying it either as a paradise or as a cold judgment.Pengolod read these contents with a kind of awe, but his mood was very conflicted. He marveled at their imagination and felt that for some reason, such a thought was blasphemous and an offense to the unknowable truth of the Supreme. .How can one know for sure when imaginations are so wildly different?

Mortals had never been given an answer to death, nor had their philosophers accepted any; Pengolod even began to doubt that there was an answer to such a question.Regarding Noof's question, can't it simply be said that he and Alfwine are like that?Alfwine has ten times the virtues and talents of ordinary people.The experience and wit that Nuf has accumulated in his life has surpassed many elves that Pengolod has known, and those elves are content to live in the same way over and over again like trees.

Pengolod spent a whole week doing research, taking notes, and trying to come up with his own philosophical theories.While he was immersed in these tasks, he did his best to be a considerate visitor, answering invitations and expressing his gratitude to servants while persuading them not to be overly flattering.Pengolod felt that they were too young and too enthusiastic.Then, as evening turned into night, he came across Tar-Minastir for the first time.

Pengolod had just put aside the first thick book he was going to read that night in the library when he heard footsteps, followed by the knock on the door.He looked up and saw a pair of shoes outside the Astronomer's Terrace (a place he had graciously praised in midsummer).He was glad he wasn't the only scholar enjoying the nocturnal hour, and listened for the astronomer's return.In the end, the stargazer turned out to be Tar-Minastir, but this only surprised Pengolod for a moment—since he was stargazing in Andunil, why couldn't he also be here? "Good evening, Tar-Minastir—or should I say, good night?" said Pengolod. "What do you read out of the stars?"

"Luck and prosperity to my people," said Minastir.He believed it wholeheartedly.It was late, but some of the clearly visible wrinkles on his face had calmed down. "In fact, I don't see any ominous signs for the rest of the year. There are no clouds in the sky, and Vera's scythe stands out even in this foggy sky, heralding a good harvest. Best stargazing around here It's Meniltamar, but that's unusual. You up so late? Are you comfortable?"

"I developed a habit of working nights in the heat of Romenna, and it's working for me now," Pengolods said.

"You use so few candles—just one," Minastiel noted.The flickering candlelight and shadows framed his handsome face, all mortal.

Pengolod replied: "The elves will comment that I have to use it. My old teacher Rumir lived in the light of the Two Trees for a long time, and he can read by the fluorescence of his skin." Pengolod Roz thought of the majesty of the past teacher, and felt a little uneasy about his conscience in the face of the venerable Minastir himself, so he said, "May I ask you a question? Are people forbidden to go to Menir except for three holy days?" Tamar?"

"Not at all. Anyone can go there at any time, as long as they obey the law and keep silent. Do you wish to go again?" Minas Tier asked.

"No, I have already been there. When I came here a week ago, I climbed the footpath of Mount Meneltamar at night, in order to have a closer look at the tombs of the kings."

Minas Tier seemed impressed: "We said there were ghosts at that hour. Did you see any ghosts?"

"None," said Pengolod.

Minas Tier said happily: "Ghosts are forbidden to leave this world if they have a mission or bad conduct. Therefore, it is a good thing that you did not meet my ancestors, which means they were all noble."

Pengolod said: "But some of your ancestors I have met in their days. You are very much like them. You are far more like Elros than Aldarion."

Minas Tier laughed loudly: "By now, I should be used to such things, but it is always amazing that you elves have seen and known the oldest history."

Pengolod hastily added: "I am not familiar with Elros, nor have I been with him for a long time. But if you are interested, I can tell you some stories about him, and the battle where he won the throne."

Minas Tier sat down across from Pengolod, a little uneasy with longing, the candlelight becoming a spark of concentration and wit in his sunken eyes. "Then, Lord Elf, please speak, even if you need all night!"

And so Pengolod began to speak.Since Minastir longed to befriend the elves, Pengolod thought that, like Alfwine, this could be the first step toward friendship.

****

We were living in despair on the Isle of Baral when we saw the first signs of the War of Wrath.Who are "we" you ask?We shall then be a multitude of men of all shapes and forms, elves and mortals, remnants of a good race, who have had the good fortune to escape from the clutches of the Orcs, the Easterers, and the savage beasts of Morgoth.Our sanctuary, Balal Island, is safe, but it's not my preferred place to live.The island is surrounded by endless swamps, and the westerly wind is fierce and cold.We've lived there for a number of years, and a lot of people are getting more and more worried, or rather, our prospects are getting less and less optimistic.Our young rightful King Jill-Galad had begun to propose returning to the shores of Middle-earth, and when he was told that we would have to fight for it, his answer was, "Then we shall fight."

It was then that we, like others in Middle-earth, saw the signs.A new star rose into the sky.We who dwelt in Sirion saw the beauty of the Silmarillion, and recognized what it was, but we knew not its great significance.We think that Ulmo fished Elwynn out of the deep sea after he jumped into the sea.Soon after this auspicious omen, I saw a scene I had never seen in my life, which seemed to us as miraculous as the new star.Finally, a ship came from the west.

Those beautiful ships were numerous, and they dropped anchor in the only port of Balal Island, and we found that they were carrying warriors.Their heralds needed an interpreter, for by that time the Elvish languages ​​spoken in Middle-earth and on the shores of Eldama had differed greatly.I was one of the translators who figured out what they meant.They were sent to tell us that the Valar had heard the plea of ​​Eärendil, and that the Mighty One was coming to drive Morgoth from the confines of the world forever.And they are our kin, who came to Middle-earth to help the Talking Race during this time of war and turmoil.We greeted them with cheers.They were of the noble Vanyar, and of the Noldor who repented of the curse of Mandos.They are brave and handsome, equipped with fine steel armor and weapons made in Aoli's furnace, but the biggest problem is that they have no idea what they are here for.I saw them stupefied at how we lived--yet, though we were not the halls of rock of old, we were not so bad, as the Elves of Middle-earth were then.

That's when Gil Gallard showed his true grit and talent.He figured out who their commanders were, talked to them, and soon convinced them: