I have not written for many weeks. It is not that time has been uneventful - quite the contrary. Even now I must haste scribbling this down. But there is a thing I must remember.
After emerging from the blackened deeps of Moria I found myself quickly in the service of the Lord and Lady of Lórien. How glorious it was to once more breath the air, smell the trees of the golden wood. But my journeys end was not yet reached. I asked the Lord to join the Malledhrim in Mirkwood, for this is where I really wanted to go. To return home. This was granted, and I soon crossed the great river, to the forest of my youth.
Oh, how I wished I could say that my heart was content, that my mind is at ease now that I have gazed upon what once was called Greenwood again. But I can not. I was aware that things had not gotten better since I left, but this? This is no longer a place for elves, nor men or any other race of good will. This is not a forest. This is not a home.
I have joined the Malledhrim, and I work with them furiously to regain a glimpse of sunlight, to find a single shard of hope in this forsaken land. There are things stirring, and I know I am in the place where I should be.
But then there was this. Yesterday evening I wandered a particular part of these so called woods, the southern wetlands that they call the Drownholts. I was on an errand to collect plants for one of our scholars when I had the oddest feeling. There where no wetlands here in my youth, but still I knew I had been there before. I recognized how the hills flowed and where the rocks lay, and if I squinted my eyes I could almost envision it as it once was. A much denser forest, many trees badly wounded, still some wore a little green. The shadow, strong, but not all encompassing. The high grass flowing around me as I slowly passed through it...with her.
Yes, I knew I had been here, with her. All of a sudden it was as if I was struck, and I felt a strong presence of the like I had not felt since we found the clearing...
I couldn't press on that night, I was ordered to get back to the camp before nightfall. But I must explore this feeling, this memory so close to life. Alas, there is too much to be done. One of these nights, I shall stray down to the wetlands again and see if there is any sign of what happened to her, my beloved Mirnel.
~o~
Almrond Brethilon
