Cae
[Since things have calmed down a bit, Galadriel has had a chance to think about things that have been in the back of her mind for quite some time. The text that appears on the page is an old fashioned script, elegant, crisp, and clean.]
Human: a bipedal primate mammal (Homo sapiens).
Vampire: the reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night and suck the blood of persons asleep.
Dragon: a mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws.
[She laughs before writing one last definition.]
Elf: (1): a small often mischievous fairy.
(2): a small lively creature; also : a usually lively mischievous or malicious person.
[And now she speaks]
These are definitions of a single world and from but one text. It is curious, is it not, how often we use these words without question? We have seen for ourselves how greatly the castle facilitates our speech, yet we do not know its reasoning, nor may we dispute its translations.
I have spoken with many elves here. While I do feel something of a kinship with them, I may also say that there is much that we do not share. Perhaps more than we do. What is it, then, that makes us all of Elvenkind? What binds us to those “fairies” of which I have written? Surely it is something more than pointed ears and a love for woods and starlight- something deeper and of greater importance.
My people place great value on language and the naming of things. It is not without reason that our ancient tongue is called Quenya, or “speech” and we Quendi, or “speakers.” Words have a power of their own. “Human,” “vampire,” “dragon,” “elf”- I find it difficult to believe these groupings are without significance. What I ask is this: what do we truly know of each other? Of our natures? And what have we assumed?
[For anyone who wants to see her in person, Galadriel is in the library, pushing aside the dictionary she had quoted from and idly thumbing through a book of mythology and folklore.]
Human: a bipedal primate mammal (Homo sapiens).
Vampire: the reanimated body of a dead person believed to come from the grave at night and suck the blood of persons asleep.
Dragon: a mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws.
[She laughs before writing one last definition.]
Elf: (1): a small often mischievous fairy.
(2): a small lively creature; also : a usually lively mischievous or malicious person.
[And now she speaks]
These are definitions of a single world and from but one text. It is curious, is it not, how often we use these words without question? We have seen for ourselves how greatly the castle facilitates our speech, yet we do not know its reasoning, nor may we dispute its translations.
I have spoken with many elves here. While I do feel something of a kinship with them, I may also say that there is much that we do not share. Perhaps more than we do. What is it, then, that makes us all of Elvenkind? What binds us to those “fairies” of which I have written? Surely it is something more than pointed ears and a love for woods and starlight- something deeper and of greater importance.
My people place great value on language and the naming of things. It is not without reason that our ancient tongue is called Quenya, or “speech” and we Quendi, or “speakers.” Words have a power of their own. “Human,” “vampire,” “dragon,” “elf”- I find it difficult to believe these groupings are without significance. What I ask is this: what do we truly know of each other? Of our natures? And what have we assumed?
[For anyone who wants to see her in person, Galadriel is in the library, pushing aside the dictionary she had quoted from and idly thumbing through a book of mythology and folklore.]