Cirdamir

Three days had passed and Hirgonui Curugirion gave us the news that there was as of yet no words from Culir, it worried me greatly that he had not heard anything from him. Hirgonui reassured me that there was nothing to worry about, he told me I should have faith in him, but most importantly he told me that I should believe in myself. I did not quite understand that sentiment. Surely it could be that if I were more confident I would view others the same way. I looked at Istuir and decided not to debate this.

I stand upon a hill, overlooking the river Lhûn. Down below, within its swirling waters, a number of ships carrying the banners of Loth-i-Lonnath waving in the wind, lies anchored at the docks of Thamas Lorn; and like great white swans they ride the streams, only awaiting the moment to spread their wings and take flight towards the north. For that is where the herth is going, to meet dangers unknown, but this time, I'm not going with them.

I could hear the sound of sparing, swords being parried and coming together, faint whistles of the arrows hitting make shift targets. Our banners were preparing, Preparing for the worst. We hoped that our suspicions were wrong, we hoped that for once our insight would not be correct. Unfortunately we often were right in our conclusions. That's why we were heading towards Lone-lands with four banners, fifty wardens and fifty Ethiriath in total, we could not be too careful. Something in the air also told us something was stirring far north. Was it the smell? The silence?

It was one of those rainy days, when I returned to Thamas Lorn with my report. Such a strange way to greet my home, my home, which is known for the most beautiful sunset in Middle Earth. Not even here things seemed to be normal. Although I was glad to see our Halls in the misty fog that cloaked the walls. My arrows were covered in blood, black raven blood. It made me think about that afternoon when I saw a cloud of black raven hasting above the barren lands of Lone-lands.

  Many are the days that the Grey Watch keeps the roads of Ered Luin safe and sound. Long are the nights we watch the ravines of Rath Teraig, and keep a constant vigil to prevent the coarse goblins from wandering out into our domain. There is plenty of work to do, and we - the Wardens of the Grey Watch - we do it well. From the shores of Mithlond and its tall and proud watchtowers, to the great dwarven halls in the north, we make our way with spear and shield, with bow and arrow.

O, Lothlórien, where mallorn trees stand tall and blossoming! Always the home of my heart will be here, in your peaceful wake! Far I have wandered since last I gazed upon thy grandeur, and I wish to tell that I have returned and settled at my birthplace in Lindon, my wayward mind lost to Mithlond's blue seas and white sails. Ah, how captivating it is, to traverse the seas, bending sails to the wind's will, and to pull the vessel's ropes! To once again be in childhood's hour, walking its sandy beaches, picking seashells and smooth rocks tumbled by endless waves!