Journal entry: An uneasy welcome

Injuries sustained by me were less grievous than those of Thorontir's, but my body is less accustomed to them, so to my own surprise, I was deemed immobile for the longest of times, fighting severe pain after the battle rush had faded. For that reason I had stayed behind while my companions moved on, towards the barren lands in the east, following a lead of that mysterious Sharkû (or Sharkey, since I believe those names are one and the same, just differently spoken). I know naught of their adventures or perils, I shall have to ask once we find a moment. Many questions piled up, many names not previously heard. But that will have to wait.

I have set off as soon as I could move without feeling pain and had traveled the trail restlessly, to catch up with my brethren. I had not the time to remain and check many a thing, nor have I had the time to write them down. These are the moments I am glad the writings are just for me, for were there people anxiously awaiting to read these musings, for one they would be disappointed by constant digressing and the low quality of such, as well as I'd have to apologise for having them wait so long. Thankfully, that is not the case.

Digressions aside, however, I had followed the tracks of my companions, guessing events that might have happened. I am aware of them fighting someone at the verge of Lone Lands, leaving the place with a company of several more than they have encountered. The tracks at Amon Sûl were more mysterious - a company of few went up the mountain, following the tracks of a larger band, but then said band had left, my companions went their own way days after them. Have the rest dulled my ability to read tracks this much or did something peculiar happen out there? I shall have to inquire.

Following the tracks further without much further ado, I came across another scuffle remnant, then at Ost Guruth, I have discovered that they have revealed to the Eglain a band of orcs and bandits converging to assault, then have left, perhaps to find further aid. I have had an idea just whose aid might they have sought, and once I had noticed their tracks leading into the Trollshaws, it was indeed as I thought - the elves of Imladris. Wasting no further time, I had traveled restlessly forth, straight there, abandoning the tracking. Hoping that my guess was right and the Last Homely Home was indeed their goal.

And it has been, however an uneasy welcome we have received. I have been questioned about a kinsman of ours that had been missing, name of whose have eluded my mind, but a description I remembered will be enough. That aside, and the worry of an eldarin healer regarding the wounds I have suffered, I was at ease, for the valley was always a safe place. Furthermore, my guess was correct and Thorontir had arrived, to join the festivities of a weekly Hall of Fire evening, with him Ulfey and another face I did not recognise. Then, the oddities began.

At first, we have been warned of someone preying on the other side of the door. Wary, we entered, only to have that revealed as a special welcome for the non-elven guests. Charmed by it, we had exchanged pleasantries and were presented to the main congregation within the hall. Eager - all too eager - to learn our reasonings for being there, words were said that would fall on deaf ears in the crowd, were it not for who we are. We may not be the firstborn, but our hearing is exquisite among the mankind, and many an unpleasantness have been shared, suspicions and mutters not meant for our ears. Distraught by this (and a very peculiar behaviour of a certain elf, doubting our claims of the Dúnedain blood based on the smell of our sweat - I am at loss as to what to think of it), I had sat by the table only after Ulfey came by and asked if I know any tales to share. Knowing scarce few, I have resorted to tell of my adventures and travels, however it was not meant to happen.

Soon the eldar have begun to speak in a language I did not know - and dare not assume just which language it was, however I have a grievous guess. Their tones were cheerful, the evening was kind and offers were made our way that could only have been benevolent, but I couldn't shake off a feeling of dread. Why was it that our hosts had resigned to use words we couldn't comprehend if not to hide the topics from us? Just what kind of topics were discussed in a public feast that were not meant for the ears of the lesser guests? And why even commit such an obvious harm to hospitality in first place? I find myself nervous and uneasy, in a place I have expected the exact opposite of that. Dark times are ahead indeed and none seem unscathed by them, even those we always considered pure.