It is the 2nd day of the Enedhor
In the 3016th year of the Sun
Of the Third Age of Middle-earth

These past days the unlooked-for coming of the Ñoldo, Aranyo Taurosso, and the words he spoke thereafter with my kin, have been much in my thoughts. His tale of the long journey made together with his lost brother, without help or guidance across the realm of Beleriand, has brought to my mind the vastness of that ancient land, now long drowned beneath the cold dark waters of deep Belegaer; and how all that is made in glory can so swiftly be unmade in wrath. What if the lands of Middle-earth were likewise brought to ruin? Lands that are to me yet unknown and unseen by my young eyes, and are yet untrod by my bare feet!

In the grim tidings that he brought, Aranyo spoke of Rochand of the horse-lords, a name known to us of the Woodland Realm only in rumour; and of the shadowed land of Mordor, of which we do not speak for it fills our hearts with fearful dread. Echeleb Túbeng tells me tales chiefly of his days in Lindon, and Teithoron Tegilbor those of Menegroth in Doriath, aforetime his abode; Legolas has in passing told of the vale of Imladris, last refuge of the Elves in Eriador; and my mother oft speaks of Mithlond whence the Eldar ever and anon set sail and follow the Straight Road to Dor-Rodyn, for my brother yet dwells there within the Halls of Mandos. And as a young child I learned of Trann, "the Shire", verdant home of the Periannath, that lies east of the Sea. Alas, this is all I ken of i Mbair Annui!

To the East in Rhûn beyond Dowinion (O! their heady wine!) and the Carnen lies naught but the lands of wild and evil Men, so it is told, and in the North the Naugrim once dwelt under the Ered Mithrin ere they were assailed by Yrch, but in Erebor there is a new King under the Mountain and his folk are counted among our friends; if there still dwell any of his kin in his realm of old in the Iron Hills, we know not. But in our forest fastness the woes of the Westlands beyond the high Hithaeglir matter not, nor are we troubled by the affairs of Men (save for the Dale-folk of Esgaroth with whom we trade); or so we deemed till now...

Yet how wide the lands of Middle-earth seem to one confined; how diverse the many folk that dwell therein. O, Lórien, Master of Desire and giver of visions and dreams, do you also fulfil the dreams of the Eruchîn and bring them into being? If this is so, I beseech you now to please grant my own desire: that I may one day wander in the world and delight in all its wonder!

I have learned also that it is a grave mistake to judge anyone by the deeds of their kin, for though Aranyo bore the label 'Ñoldo' he was unlike that which in my mind I deemed a Ñoldo thus to be. But it is also my thought that although not all folk are the same, they are yet all equal in worth; and that they are much alike in their woes and sorrow, and in their joys and mirth.

But in my heart I hold Teithoron blameless for his tales to me of Beleriand in bygone days, for he told them as they were seen with the eyes of the Sindar of Doriath. For many are the ways a deed may be seen through different eyes, and a single tale may be told in many ways by different tongues; to each tale there is more than one side to hear, and oft may it differ in its telling by another. This I told to Amdirren my mother, and she smiled and said I was growing wise! ‘In nothing is the power of the Dark Lord more clearly shown than in the estrangement that divides all those who oppose him,' ^[1] she told me, and I marked well her words.

My thought dwells also on the words that Aranyo spoke alone to me of his abode, together with his brother, within the green-shadowed woodlands of Lindon before the world was forever changed. For it was strange to speak thereof with one not of my Laegrim kin, but who yet dwelt aforetime in their greenwoods. The twins were, he said, first espied by the keen eyes of the Laegren marchwardens as they came nigh the place where the River Gelion was joined by the Legolin which flows swiftly down from the Ered Lindon, and thus he wondered if my name was therefore contrived by a mingling of the two river-names. Great was his mirth when I told him of its true making!^[2]

And what of his love for Echeleb, my father's father; and that of his brother for Tawardil, my mother's father? There is much, it seems, that I have yet to learn of the lore of my own kin, for never have I heard tell of these High Elves who aforetime dwelt amongst them. Alas that my forebears heeded the summons of Eönwë and thence departed Middle-earth for Dor-Rodyn, for thus is Echeleb alone my only source of lore of those last years of the Second Age of the Sun.

I think also of the fate of Aranyo's brother, and of the great tumult that they and my kin must have endured when Beleriand was beset by the mighty hosts of the Powers of Arda and Morgoth Bauglir, and thereafter brought to ruin. How was it in the greenwoods when Lindon was torn asunder and the solid earth beneath their feet was shaken and rent? Or had they long since fled, for it is said in the lorebooks of Teithoron only that the War of Wrath endured for two and forty years, and the long years over which the lands where overwhelmed by the Western Sea are uncounted. The Elves made no songs thereof, for their sorrow was too deep; but Echeleb speaks never of that time, and I had not the heart to question Aranyo in his grief. Therefore, I wonder, what indeed befell Aldanil... did he truly perish, or was his doom other than that which his brother holds true?

For my heart is troubled by the sorrow of my friend; for indeed I deem Aranyo a friend, though our meeting was but bittersweet and brief.

[1] Fellowship of the Ring, 'Lothlórien'
[2] 'Laegelion' (i.e. "son of Green-elf") is a somewhat demeaning byname given to him as a child by the former Iathrim of the court of Thranduil Elvenking. However, he deemed it a merry jest, and therefore took it in its Silvan form as his chosen name, preferring it over Methlegel, which serves a sad reminder that he is the last of his kin.

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