Back to Middle-earth Month

"Softly goes, my song's entreaty, Thro' the night to thee. In the silent woods I wait thee, come, my love, to me"

There is that story about Nimrodel following her mirror image, dancing by the edge of the water, enthralled. 

What would they say if they knew how near the truth those Halflings are? They would be surprised, certainly. Our kind is ever amused by the ignorance of mortals, the quickly changing tune of their stories. But sometimes innocent imagination comes closer to the truth than careful speculation, close to what you know. All history becomes myth, eventually, and it is largely the personalities of the storytellers and scribes that shape it, even as they strive to be closer and closer to truth, whatever that may be.