So spoke the Kinslayer,
Mindful of hardships,
Of fierce slaughters,
And the downfall of Kinsmen.
How to, where to start, I do not know. Only thing I am verily so aware is, writing in your pages also scrapes in the layers of my very soul, writing is remembering until the last detail, and it hurts. I can assure you about that. Poor book, I have no intention on hurting your paper with my pen. Pen is not my sword. Writing also, as you know, not one of my habits. But I do, I do when I cannot carry the burden anymore and feel like pouring it away into Belegaer. The cursed sea. In my perspective at least. It holds the thing that it does not own, or used to bear. Is another mystery that I had enough with.
Returning to the Vale, is also another story. Nonetheless that I went over the Mountains on my will and in the favour of Lord Anglachelm and Bar-En-Vanimar , I came back upon their untimely call and with carrying mixed feelings instead of a bouquet of wild flowers and a basket of wine as for gifting sake. Things are changed, things changes all the time. I cannot pry or blame anyone with that. Time, changes. Only a few remembered of me, of my service. I still don't blame anyone for their short memories. Others mostly thought of me as a stranger.
I am not yet sure if it is one of my habits that I bring doom to wherever I step. Upon my entrance to the Vale, I was welcomed with the grim news of late Themodir, the very last thing a weary passanger would like to hearken. I suppose it was a shoot back for my empty hands, yet I grudge it not. He was a member of the Hammer Order as I have been informed, a good warrior of the House. Yet defeated to his outrageous wounds. I did not go to Anglachelm and cheer him with my return yet. I left him to his mourning. If he chose to do that, then I'm not the one to obstruct such even no matter what. I am patient, I can wait.
Although I believe in faith, many reports it as his wounds. And poison in his blood, to be precise. Speaking of which, yes, many. I found many of my kind in the Vale in the same time. Which is a wholly different story, for I did not expect such odd hospitality, almost races with the Woodlanders. A delightful scene that brought a smile to my face, though. It was Ararusco, sitting in front of the fire, reading a book and perhaps enjoying a red wine, I did not pay much attention to that. We spoke and embraced each other, he seemed to be happy to see me back. At least happier than others.
Lady Danel is of Thargelion, my kin. And she is a cousin to Ararusco, they both share the same delight and balance. Yes, she is indeed good on balance, of her tongue and movements. It's surprised me that she has heard of me, of my skills and she talks about me on my good side, I appreciate that. She is kind and understanding against any of his kin and House. She invited us for a trip of her residences, peaceful grounds I would say. But her forge, it was a little rusty. Whether she accepts it or not.
One of the deepest mourners for late Themodir, is Lady Norliriel. Apparently she has no chance to pour outside, or share that burden with her friends or a book like you. A kind yet prideful Lady she is, but it is understandable and her sorrow could have read from her eyes. She claims that she is a survivor of Sirion and would rather not to speak about the matter. She is deeply wounded as it seems, both spiritually and physically. But I do not recall her, nor her face neither her presence. She is an healer, not a warrior, maybe this is why. Or it's just because I did not look at my own kind's face while I slay them.
There's one another who had a smiling and inviting face. She frequently offered tea to me, and I liked her tea to be honest. Her name was Eliriael, as much as I can remember. A close friend to Norliriel. But as of late, she suddenly loses her joy and her face gets a death pale manner and her behaviour suddenly changes. I wonder why.
'Laboth'. She found me, I swear. I did not even know her cause before she found me in the Vale and explained herself. I was glad, that she found me again. She is the same Laboth, that jumps here and there. She is good, happy and healthy, that's enough for balancing my morale. Sometimes I feel like her only cause is to keep me happy. Yet things got a little complicated between us, and there's much more to tell about her, but I won't share her with you, diary. Know your place.
I would not be surprised if this unsavory character came earlier at me. I draw trouble, trouble draws me, yet I grudge it not. His name is Annunghil, he is of Noldor as well. But, 'other' Noldor. Despite Lady Danel, I am not yet clement against the any other descendants of King Finwe except a few selected ones. He sounds balanced with his tongue, but I caught a few wrong lines in his speech, hopefully he will not repeat such. For my blade is more cruel and sharper than even both of our tongues. I will keep looking at him with disdain and in a careless manner. I stood stoic and stiff against him, no one can change me. If he wants trouble, he could not find better than me. But I would not like that anyway, for I turned from that way long ago.
