Ered Luin

By now these letters are, with hope, on their way to Duillond now that I have arrived at a settlement capable of sending word home. Once my task at Thorin’s former home is completed I should be able to convey whether the confusion caused by my apparent disappearance at Gondamon was necessity or folly.

The climate of the Vale of Thrain becomes noticeably different as soon as one enters it. It is as if nature itself came to recognize the land as belonging of the dwarves. For some this makes Thorin’s Gate unapproachable but I have made the journey several times before. The path is not as steep as those among the mountains themselves are, and the cold is not so different to that I have experienced visiting northern Forlindon.

I left the discussions of elves and dwarves to walk through several doors at the back of the storerooms as Frárin gave long talks on the design of the fortress. ‘Your people are no good at building defensively’ he said,  ‘much of the stone above the surface had to be completely replaced by my kin as soon as they arrived. However, the foundations are serviceable. They bind the structure above to the hill below well enough.’ So then, these were passages from the original fortress.

The events that occurred at Gondamon have, I am sure, been well discussed by now. However the narrative of such things tend to take a life of their own, so I will attempt to outline the proceedings as I understood them. I am perhaps reluctant to include this all-to-familiar account of diplomacy between Elf and Dwarf, most of which was related secondhand upon my reaching the fortress. Yet I include it for its use in understanding the actions I took later.

Before the composition of any text, I have always held that the author must explain their reason for writing it. Why it is not kept in memory, why it is not simply told in conversation, why it is worth the use of parchment and quill. In this way it may be known to any who find it why it is worth reading. The purpose of these letters then is to show I have in fact not been kidnapped by dwarves.

Ithilien, start of the Fourth Age

"What is your favorite color?"

"Eh?" Earcalie blinked, taken back in the real world from her reverie by Inweth's words. They were enjoying a light meal watching the sun set, sitting atop Henneth Annun's rocky outcrop. Below them, a sea of green dotted by the yellow Culumalda trees. "Mine is green" said the gardener elleth. As if that wasn't obvious... the other one thought, but didn't say out loud

So much has happened since that night I was kidnapped to Bree. I finally got back to the Shire only to begin having nightmares - dark men in shadows coming after me, things like that. But the worst were the spiders. I've always hated the things, but after my thankfully brief encounters with them in Bree, I'd had more than enough adventuring (against my will, I might add) for a lifetime. Working in Michel Delving allowed me to put my heinous experiences behind me, but it was a slow process.