Tinw Filigod, Elf-Friend

But those misadventures came later. I won't tell you all of Tinw's story here, but let me give you a glimpse of how she -- and one part of the Plaza -- began. My first day exploring the Plaza, I found an activity called the Imladris Bards Guild. I signed up and was assigned as an "apprentice" to Soronúmë, Master of Song, who gave me poetry assignments and critiqued my work.

I'm not a good artist, but I loved the conceit of his airy study with a high balcony overlooking the valley. Here is an excerpt of an exchange between Soronúmë and Tinw, from lessons with him back in June 2005:

Soronúme:
[Commenting on my last assignment, which was to write a poem about Morgoth]
Little bird, be not ashamed of your ability to grasp the guile of Bauglir's speech. Such skill, if skill it is, will enable your race to thrive and forge ahead, and will give you the desire to create and survive, conquering all physical boundaries, until I sense, in the distant future, an alien world consumed by technology, a world where Men turn their backs on Arda.
Can this be said to be a triumph of Morgoth, even though he has been cast out?
It is a world we will not see, for, as you say, we will go home. Yet home for me is here in Middle-Earth. I never saw Aman, although my parents spoke often of it. My mortal friends here, Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits, are all ageing, and I remain. Death, that blessed curse, that abominable gift, will take them and leave me. Then I will build a Grey Ship and sail with as many of my race as will accompany me, but I will be leaving my home.
I wish you could come with me - few mortals have attuned themselves so completely with our people, but such Grace is not mine to give. So sing! Play! Enjoy Rivendell while it lasts. Then return to the White City, and sing to Arwen, my kinswoman, my regard for her.
Stay here with us a while, little bird - mortals may stand tall alongside the Firstborn, and our hearts are turned to you.
Tinw:
The girl's face falls as he speaks of the distant future, but she neither protests nor comments: she honestly does know little of the ways of Men, just as any peasant in the field is not conversant with policies, the structures of society, save through the vehicle of stories. But as he speaks of Grace, she gives a quiet laugh. "Well, you cannot keep death at bay, master, but for my part- you have given that Grace! Don't you think I'm in Valinor now?"
The light is back in her eyes again. "As much as mortal heart can bear."



After five years, nearly all of Tinw's closest friends in Rivendell have taken the ships to the Undying Lands. (In other words, some old Rivendell members have stopped playing). So Tinw has decided to follow her master's advice and move to Minas Tirith, to share the songs and lore she's picked during her time as an "Elf-friend."