Rossiel would never before have comprehended that there could be other worlds beyond Arda, to whose circles she - like all her kin - was bound. ‘Until the world’s ending’ or until its changing, or its breaking, or any other such phrase had only meant ‘forever and ever and ever’ to her.
Until the world had ended. But in that ending, were not the Children of Ilúvatar meant to be gathered before him that they may join with the Ainur in singing the world anew?
“Then the themes of Ilúvatar shall be played aright, and take Being in the moment of their utterance, for all shall then understand fully his intent in their part...” And Rossiel did not understand. She did not understand this town with its lights-without-flames, with its round, white-furred beings that kupo-ed at her and went about their business. But she’d been given a room to stay in for a while and some hand-me-down dresses, a list of shops to try to look for work, and a promise that everything will be all right. There, there, dear. You’ll settle in soon enough.
Rossiel did not want to settle in. She hadn’t lost her world, not forever like many of the others who came here. But even if she could return, would there be a place for her in Arda renewed if she'd not taken part in its Music? Like she had many times the past few days, all Rossiel could do was sit down and weep.
