[A lively elf by the name of Celdir surreptitiously produces a crumpled and ink-stained piece of paper and offers it to those he considers to be friendly to Virthalion including, but not limited to, Lady Danel, Lady Elisbeth and Captain Khalis of Imladris. He expresses some concern over his master’s well-being and although he is not unduly worried, indicates that he wishes to make sure that Virthalion is being kept an eye on by his companions - whether his master approves of this or not.]
-----------------------------
…The discussion led by Lady Danel this eve left a chill in me that I cannot shake. It is not as though the reports themselves came as much of a surprise during these dark times, but all this talk of the dark lands to the North and of the Eye that watches us from the East unnerved me more than I cared to say. A shadow lies over my heart of late and it has grown since my travels to the lands of Gondor, where the skies stay ever dark of late. I cannot seem to shake it truly even now I have returned to the vale.
I was pleased as always to offer my services to my companions in the Bar-en-Vanimar, in this particular case, translating those foul phrases for lady Helcequen. But seeing the Black Speech written down did little to improve my temper. Oh, how I detest translating that foul tongue! And how I regret having ever had need to learn any of its twisted sounds…
And the dreams. The dreams trouble me once again, and so I find myself writing in the dark of night once again. Black wings and dark omens. Amongst other visions, I catch glimpses of battlefields while I slumber. Men and elf alike lie glassy-eyed and bloody, the looks of terror on their faces all to plain to see...
These dark portents flee while I walk with friends, but alas when left alone the chill oft returns once more, causing me to wrap my cloak all the tighter around my person despite the warmth of Imladris. I do not enjoy to speak of such matters, but perhaps I will consider consulting Lady Manadhlaer of the Healers to see if she possesses any concoction that might sooth my dreams.
[Here there is a short break in the script, and a scattering of sticky crumbs appear to be stuck on the page, along with a few stains that look suspiciously like Dorwinion Red.]
…On a happier note, I was most pleased to find that I had not, as I had originally supposed, finished my supply of Beorning honey oat-cakes.
(Note to self: I truly must ask Celdir to give these quarters a proper clean; the mountains of papers and other odds and ends that are stacked up have become quite the hazard in their own right!)
The cakes cheer me greatly, partly as they bring forth memories of brighter times in my youth. Perhaps I should send some of these to the Cauns of the Bar-en-Vanimar in thanks for their warm welcome to their fold? Also perhaps to Elisbeth and Khalis, for I think they should also enjoy them greatly.
(Note: Tindthurin shed one of his feathers recently. I could make it into a charm of sorts; perhaps provide it to one of the vanimar scouts heading to the cave in the northern Trollshaws soon? Raven feathers are excellent for warding against the influences of evil spirits, and if I recall the dead are sometimes restless in those parts. Will consult Lady Danel for her opinion.)
(Note: My cave-claw companion is digging holes once again in the garden of my lodgings here. Must apologise to Lord Erestor for the mess. Again.)
[And further down the page:]
(Note: Must remember not to take my friend Ciryamo to the hall of fire openly. There are some there that, for reasons that are beyond me, do not appreciate his rodent charm; they complain that, amongst many other criticisms, he is ‘disease-ridden’. Nonsense! He is no more disease ridden than am I, and yes, his fur may be in poor shape after his time upon a corsair ship, but that can hardly be said to be his fault. Bah! “All that is gold does not glitter.”, as I believe that poem by master Baggins goes...)
[And further down the page again:]
(Note: Celdir, please do refrain from reading my personal diaries. You may be my man-servant and a trusted friend, but if I catch you again I will call upon a swarm of rodents to nibble your toes in the dark of night while you slumber. I mean it this time.)

