The Most Unelfy Elf

During my time in Ered Luin I have found myself meeting many peculiar and interesting folk. Some have never known any land further than Celondin or Duillond, born and raised there as their fathers before them. Some have travelled far and wide and have scarce business in Ered Luin other than trade their fatherlands the place they rest their head after long travels across wide spances. Some find themselves settled there, as have I, our homelands taken by the darkness spreading throughout Ennor, wishing for the lands we once called home to be ours again.

But there is one ellon who has been burnished into my memory. Our first encounter, if I remember, was the Newcomers Ball. The evening hosted by the most hospitable Bar-en-Acharn, it was a welcome night of frivolity and company after weeks spent trapping in Ered Luin and running deeds for the Dwarves at Thorin's Hall. There were many new faces and names that evening and amongst the fragrances of wine and fine Hobbit cooking along with the welcome crackle of an open fire, I at first failed to recall many of those I met there.

The second encounter cemented further my recollection of this fellow. It was an event I had the pleasure of attending thanks to my new acquaintances Hiril Seregrian and Hir Cutch. They have taken me under their wing since the Newcomers Ball and I am eternally grateful for their knowledge and continued hospitality to Daethad and myself.
A celebration the Dwarves called ghelekvustmerag (their feast of midsummer) found myself and Bar-en-Acharn in the hospitable halls of Durin's Folk. Again the evening was spent with fine wine, finer company (that is a story for another time..) musicians of splendid talent and the opportunity to grow in relationship with my new Kin. This evening I learnt of the fellow Vholrat, the inspiration for my entire retelling of this tale. Never in my 400 years have I seen an ellon quite like this one. He does not speak a word in Elvish tongue. Regularly I find myself first speaking to him in Sindarin and then having to repeat myself in common tongue when he looks at me so blankly. Another thing are his mannerisms are not that of an Elf at all. He is a Man with Elvish features, that is how I would describe him. Even from the way he dresses, he is a sight to behold. From his tales around the table he seems to spend a lot of time in the North and barely any time in the South. He admits himself he does not associate himself with Elves, his lineage unknown to him. And the best of this? He drinks like a sailor, home from a voyage too long at sea. Never have I seen an Elf under the influence of good Dwarven ale quite like Vholrat. The evening in Erebor saw me giving the poor fellow tea and bread to try and return his wits to him.
His table manners are something to be pondered on, his tongue hardened as well as his heart. But he means well and would do anything for those of Bar-en-Acharn.

From his recent travels he brought me back a gift that will always make me think of him. Never in my immortal life did I think I would decorate my walls with shields and furs but alas, Hir Vholrat thinks it suits me in some way. On our most recent seeing of each other I repaid his gift with a gift of my own. The poor fellow dresses in.. such a way.. and there was a Council meeting approaching and so I thought the fellow needed some formal clothes. I laugh to myself as I pen this, remembering the look on his face when he opened them. He looked more like the ellon I know he is and know he could be. I wonder of his past and his family, of his heritage. I have mind to consult Hiril Seregrian on her library and whether any trace of Vholrat's past can be found.

Vholrat is growing into a dear mellon and although he is the most unelfy Elf, he is a mighty friend.