I feel like a grevoius weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I really do owe Sylrond. I want to make him something...... But what??? Not to mention it needs to be done before he leaves Imladris..... A new harp?.....no. A coat??
Ever since the farmer and the elf met, their willingness to banter with one another led to a fast friendship. The farmers thick accent made it difficult to pronounce Lamaenon's name, so the farmer took to simply calling the elf "Lemon".
The tale of The Farmer and The Lemon is a story of how a humble farmers kindness nurtured more than just his crops.
First, you must know of the farmer. A Bree man named Threland, mostly a farmer and a drunkard. The man was almost never seen without a smile, or his wide brimmed hat adorned with a single, large fluffy plume.
-The handwriting in the journal is long, curvy and flowing cursive.....Westron. The writer took his time with this entry, for there are no crossed out sentences. Inside the cover is a name. 'Lamaenon of Lothlorien'-
Strange guests from a distant land have entered the refuge of Elrond Halfelven. What is their purpose here? What do they want? And where do they come from? In the last weeks Imladris has experienced the new and strange culture of these visitors.
Eleven years have we known each other. Eleven years. Since I first saw him during my trip to Rohan. I remember it so well. Little children, we were. I was Seven, he was Nine. He accidentaly poured some water on my dress, but he apologized very loudly as I began crying. Then mother came and took me away, told me that I shouldn't be playing with "riff raff" like that.