Well, Diary. Today's entry is a little unusual. But then unusual seems to be my usual condition of late.
Exiting the Hall of Fire -- the usual music, dancing, wine, all very much the same, although there was a new elleth and meeting her was very pleasant; Fingolian proposed to return to his home in the Golden Wood, and was given a great deal of well-meaning advice, not least about the pass. If only he had the sheer muscularity of the letter I came home to -- but I get ahead of myself.
Branalph was with me -- dutiful but quiet as always, although being newly betrothed seems good for him; he switched his spiky armour for a robe, at least. We departed the Hall and almost literally ran into Danel and Parnard, soon joined by Estarfin. What strange thoughts swirled through my head as I looked upon these veterans of Imladris! I have not forgotten, and will never forget, that Danel was my nurse on one of the most difficult nights of my long life. Estarfin was not wearing any uniform, preferring a rather dashing red tunic; in the manner of soldiers, he was but little more talkative than was Branalph -- although he proved the most efficient of all of us in marching right into the hall and commandeering wine and cups. And Parnard -- frankly he was always a bit queer, but I have such hopes for him if he can just face down the untrusting father of his betrothed.
Then Ahmo of Himring -- why is everyone from Himring? It is no crime to come from there, but we had already started talking of Daegond, more beloved than he ever dreamed... Ahmo came along, with the Woman who had been in the Hall earlier, Anurania. Very nice blue dress. I should try that colour. But never will she know that in passing the sight of Estarfin, she owes her very life to the seal of truce over Master Elrond's house. His opinion of Men is not even an opinion, but a swift stab with a spear.
I was loath to part from my old friends, not because we were gracing the foyer with any scintillating conversation, but simply for their nearness. They depart within the week, if the weather favours them and the pass is still open. However, I had written a letter, and earlier Gaerondil the messenger-girl had said a response awaited me. And what a response!
To: Lady Manadhlaer
From: Hrundis, daughter of Vignár. son of Hrunár
I intercepted your bird, which did not get as far as Erebor, but found me already weeks into my journey.
I am coming, and I will find the Hidden Vale. Nothing will stop me! Do you understand, Elf? No blizzard and no ice can separate me from justice for my brother! Dwarves are not fragile crowns of lilies-of-the-valley, nibbling magic wafers and sipping cordials. We are the stone itself! We know how to handle ourselves in the mountains because we were birthed from their very flesh!
With my own eyes I shall look upon the slayer of my brother, and with my own hands I shall receive the heirloom axe from his friend, to whom I am grateful. And perhaps it is that axe that will do justice upon the murderer! No doubt you Elves have been keeping him upon feather pillows, with frozen cherries and cream for his meals! May he enjoy them while he still has a head to eat with!
Do not mistake my vehemence for ingratitude. I am nettled beyond reason to owe your lot a massive debt for the recovery of both slayer and axe. We will see you repaid in whatever fashion you choose! But I warn you, our vaults are not full of spun sugar and silk dresses!
Regardless of the weather, I am coming, with formal beard braids and a whirlwind in my heart, to take matters into my own hands! For my brother was worth more than the Arkenstone itself, and I must translate my boundless grief into action!
Well, Diary. The gang of Dwarrow just keeps growing. I hope she makes it through the pass, but the part of me that loves peace and order dreads her coming.
