I am troubled.
Lorien is more than I could have imagined. The City of Caras Galadhon so overwhelmed me that, I admit, I quickly fled to the Vineyards.
I need not recount the entire conversation here, but after speaking with my father I find I have a greater clarity of thought. It is beautiful here, but I find my thoughts turning back to the places I have been--to Lake Evendim, to Imladris--and I find I am torn. I have been so caught up in exploring every corner of these lands that I had not realized I was, in each place, leaving something of myself behind--and now I find my heart divided, torn between directions, and even as I contemplate this I know I am now leaving a part of myself here among the leaves of the Golden Wood, and that when I have gone I will miss this place as well.
Perhaps this is why it took me so long to set out: I knew, somehow, that I could never be truly at peace in one place again.
My father says I am lonely; this I do not dispute. There is a difference between enjoying one's own company and being alone all the time. Were I a Man, and had but 80 or 100 years, I am sure I would have lived them all out in content isolation. But now I am ten times that age, and I find that at last, I am weary of being alone.
I meet many folk, and make many friends, but somehow this does not ease my loneliness. I do not know what will.
