Interlude: The Way

What is this place? Why am I not in Valinor, I saw it, on the horizon, my home, lost to me for... wait.

Who am I?

I am everything I have ever been, or is that I ever will be? Names, memories, knowledge of that which I remember having yet to do. My distant past seems full of things which will have happened. I feel adrift in a sea of consciousness, yet none of it makes sense. I am Tromador, I am Umberto, I will have been Mendaline, Julius.. there is no beginning and no end. A great circle of time, a finite infinity, turning, turning...

How long have I been here, I know not. I grasp at the identity I understand best. Tromador the Noldor Elf. Or is that Umberto the Maia? No. I am Tromador. I think I was first of all known by that name, though time is of little meaning in this place. The shape I am most accustomed to is elven and as I focus upon it, I see myself, wearing the blue and gold of my house.


I am myself. That is a beginning. Yet, is this an end? I find I am on an island, but this is not Valinor.

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