A letter arrived to me recently. It was sent to be by Lossënénu, telling of the severe injury rendered to her husband, Daerond, in their quest to aid the banks of Greenwood. He was struck with a blade of unknown make, and appears to have been poisoned in spirit. He withers, growing feebler by the day, though his wounds are healed. She fears his tether waning, and stays by his side day and night. She begs me return to Lothlorien, but I fear that I cannot. I write to you now, Myrnarleth, in the hopes that you will go in my stead to my sister’s side in this dark hour. She encloses also the Hymn of Elbereth, and says she sings it for comfort.
I myself am held troubled by these things in Imladris. I fear the populace, for I do not believe I can contain my disheartening. It has been in vain that I struggle to find a way to aid all that which has reached my ears, and I feel I wax ever more in desperation. But now, here this hymn has nearly been completed; and the birds come to its sound, for I believe they approve of its tune. I intend not to give it words, for it has a story which need not be spoken, and I believe some will yet know it, should I allow it to be heard.
Vivaldi- Et in Terra Pax