A/N: Wow I don't think I've ever written two different stories in one day. Yet, when I posted that Feanor story, I had this sudden urge to write about a forsaken lover, and I was thinking, "Who should it be?" and my mind rolled to--Erendis! How perfect! I've always wanted to write an Erendis story, and now I have. My first time, and I've forgotten the minute details about her. Shame! I would've added the names of things, like her forest and such, but I forgot them. I hope you like it, nonetheless. Please review!

I love you.

Can you not see?

You saw once, when I was loathe to admit it. You pursued me, persevering regardless of my reaction, and you had triumphed, for a time.

I still do not admit my weakness eagerly, yet you do not pursue me now. You would not follow me from one end of our island to the other. What has changed?

I am not beautiful. I never was. Time has added melancholy depth to my eyes. Nay, you have added melancholy depth to my eyes. Depth, which you are never here to see.

I am not renowned, nor was I those years ago.

I have no great skill. I cannot weave. I cannot sing. I have no skill for the lyre. I have not learned those skills since those years. I have learned nothing but the flames of jealousy, and the cold, cruel edge of loneliness.

What has changed?

I know now that nothing has changed. She was there from the beginning, and she will always be there, long after we, yes my husband, both you and I, have gone. Does it grieve you? To know that she will always be here, tempting others like she does you, while you, gone beyond the circles of this world, cannot enjoy her. I hope it grieves you. I hope it cuts you like the sharpest blade. I hope you learn what jealousy is, what loneliness means.

I wonder at the fickleness of men. You swore your undying love, yet even then, your mistress loomed, never far. She was always behind me, and you always saw through me, to her. No, nothing has changed. Of course it hasn't changed. It has just grown stronger. You grew weary of me, but she always holds something fresh to enjoy.

O, my love, my heart, why will you not come to me like you once did? You called me cruel; cruel for leaving you; cruel for taking my daughter away from you. You do not think for a moment that you are cruel in any way.

Go then. Go to her. She is a greater mistress than any that we can be. I do not want you. I do not need you. I hope that she drowns you in her embrace; that would be my end for you. Drown, drown in your own reflection.

A/N: That last sentence, which is also the title, I credit to Itarille, and her story, "A Life of Loneliness", which is personally one of my favorite stories on this site. (check it out). Review!