I have come to experience many means of travelling across Middle Earth. Horses, ships, and even by goat a few times. The one I most prefer is still the use of my own two feet and being able to move at my own pace. That which I recommend the least is the caravan. The motion of the carriage makes the traveller aware within minutes of the slightest imperfections of the wheels and no elf can expect to be suited to the enclosed space. The worst of it is the speed at which we travelled. To move so quickly without noticing a change in the wind is surely a way to be lost if one does not know the path. Once we had left the vale it took a short while for me to recognize which part of the mountain lowlands we were in.
When I returned to Gondamon I found the other elves had already returned to their homes. Master Stouthand promised if we succeeded Gondamon would support any dwarven expedition to the west and wished us luck in finding our source of timber. He did not think the other elves were troubled by the abrupt nature of my departure, but then again we are used to hiding our worries from the dwarves. I asked Lorin if he was fine with leaving so soon just to inspect trees, and before the Durin’s Day celebrations had truly begun. He thought it was good fortune that our expedition begin on the same day as Thorin’s journey, and from the same place. Apparently the festival is more of a Longbeard tradition and by leaving now he would have less competition from them. Although I expect he would have more dealings with hobbits than other dwarves where we were headed. The forest of Arassien, however much of it still remains, lies just beyond the western bounds of the Shire.
I have encountered hobbits before, for some of them occasionally become lost in the forests and stumble into Falathlorn. They are a pleasant people, if a little fearful, fond of riddles and enjoy sharing songs as much as everyone else. Of course I realise that if the portion of the forest we are searching for lies within their realm this may be have all been for naught.
Then we come to the events of my brief reappearance at Duillond. Before we crossed over the bridge to Falathlorn, I tried to stop at there to give some explanation of our mission. Unfortunately the caravan could not stay for long. I was able to say that finds from relics the dwarves had taken from Edhelion indicated a lost source of wood for the ships of the Havens. And also that it was necessary for me to accompany the dwarves to ensure they did not begin to deforest the western parts of the Shire. I hope that this, along with the content of my letters, has assuaged any concerns of my abduction. But I fear the spectacle of my being hastily bundled by the dwarves onto their cart has undone most of that.
Also, it was after Duillond that I decided to tell Lorin of what I suspected concerning the story he had told me earlier, of dragons sleeping beneath Thorin’s Gates. I had an anxious feeling that my curiosity would have caused the old tale to be spread again among the dwarves.
‘There may have been some truth to it’ I told him. ‘Although the Lonely Mountain is likely the only one of Thorin’s homes to harbour a dragon’s hoard. For there are some among the elves who are given foresight into motion of fates. Some centuries after the dragon ravaged your people there appeared a vision of the creature’s doom, for the fate of a dragon that devoured the rings of dwarven kings comes as strong as the fates of the kings who wore them. I remember that Edhelion, being the closest elven realm to the dwarves of the Blue Mountains, was tasked with sharing with them what could be seen.’
Four dooms are pronounced for four rings
The worm of the western mountains shall meet its doom in the tomb of its own greed
After the end of everything the tomb shall be opened, and doom shall come to they who open it
For the red and white serpents will ascend to the skies once more, and each will carry with them the doom of the Naugrim.
‘No mention of the tomb’s location?’ Lorin asked. ‘I suppose the message wasn’t taken well.’
‘It’s likely they may have chosen to interpret the prophecy as a confession of guilt for freeing the dragon. We were too indifferent, too slow to understand how the affairs of your people had changed after the loss of the rings. And how it had affected your relations with us’.
‘You should scarcely be apologising for that’ he muttered. To his credit, that is more than most dwarves will begrudge.
The caravan arrived at the gates of the Eastway. While of dwarven-make now, they mark the elven boundary of Falathlorn. ‘The road is still the same as I remember it’ I told Lorin. For I had passed through it so long ago, seemingly for the last time, swearing never to return east but only to continue to the West. An Age before that, I had also passed east through the same road for the last time, intending never to turn back west. How little my vows came to in the end.
‘You have been out to see the world before?’
‘The world I saw is long gone now’ I told him, ‘but I should still be able to guide you to Arassien’
This is the last of the letters sent to Falathlorn. Compiled together, they clearly show that things are not as we first feared, they are in fact even worse. Our missing scribe, sent in good faith to fulfil a request, has been coerced into a Dwarvish conspiracy to pillage the Stag-Lands of the High King. Therefore, we send these as evidence for master Whitethorn to request aid from the nearby Wandering Companies. If word can be sent to any within the Shire we will keep them notified as well of any subsequent letters.
