Dear Sergelon,
It has been some time since I have written you, and for that I apologize. I am not the same courier that I was, and my tasks go beyond delivering messages. As my friend Lamaenon once said, what is a courier if not a scout for the White Lady? As he is with his Galadhrim, so I am for Cirdan, and I find myself spending more time gathering information than carrying it. You were right when you gave me my sword. The world is darkening, and I can no longer pretend that I can glide through it untouching and untouched.
Do you remember when we first met? In Imladris, after Fornost? I came with Cirdan's host, a scout and outrider, and nearly did not make it back home. You sat with me for some reason, taking pity on me as I healed, and taught me the history of Angmar, and the reason we had fought. You said that we were in a dark time, but that we could drive it back and gain respite, if only for a little while. It feels like that now, Sergelon. Angmar. Isengard. The dark fumes of the Enemy in Mordor.
Do you remember the men from Gondor? Who sailed to us, and marched to destroy Angmar? They returned victorious to their homes, yet the war was not a victory. Vengeance was achieved, but no vengeance could return the dead to life. And Arnor was dead. Her people scattered. Rangers in the wild, more akin to elves than anything else, and by that I mean they wandered and resisted the Shadow as they could, but they knew - as they still do - that they fought a holding action at best. The Enemy won on that day, and this is the second stroke of that battle.
Cirdan has released me to wander as I will, to resist as I will. The gift of your sword was prescient, and it has since seen use more than I would like. I have operated out of Imladris for the past few years. The irony, now that you live in Lindon, is not lost on me. I have been part of an expedition to Eregion. Saruman has been sending his orcs there, and we oppose him where we can, while trying to reclaim the land. The Noldor built well, for all their faults, and it has been an interesting year. I am returning again soon, this time in the company of horse-men from the East. Rohan, they call it. They intend to go through the mountain to the East. Through Moria. It is open, or so the Naugrim claim, but I fear the thought of walking that dark path, and I am glad they only wish company until they reach the gate.
I am enclosing notes I have made over the past year in Eregion. I hope you can make use of them, and I hope my path leads me back to Lindon, where I can see you and hear what you have done with the things I have found for you.
Always, your devoted student,
Cirochil
