Líriel beheld the man with wonder. In all honesty, she had not thought how love could have awoken so many questions, while death merely was a mystery not all took time to ponder upon. To her kin, death was no journey of discovery for the Eldar did not truly die. Their aging was slow, it even ceased at a given time in their lives, yet only for their bodies. Their hearts and minds changed as time carved deeper and deeper marks upon them. Her grandparents had seen Cuiviénen the lake, but on their faces few were the signs of aging.
Love…so many sought it, deeming it the cup with the sweetest wine. Maidens and ladies, all sreamed of a love unseen before, mighty and great and fiery. Líriel could not deny such wishes she as well had had. She had oft read poems and sighed, attempting to find her breath once more. But, oh Eru, love was a song made of a pattern changeable. At beginning it was pure and joyful and, as the lovers wandered deeper in the forest, they at last came to paths unknown, those of desires. And desires were things so deceitful.
"Love is a fire not only for the heart, but also for the mind," she stated, "While death is one thing which might be certain. In love, where any thought can hurt or bring joy, how can one find certainty?" A shade of frown danced on hee brow. "But thy face is unknown to me or at least unclear in my memory. Might I ask who are you, wise man?"