Elrond

The pages of the journal are weathered and worn. The yellowing of the parchment speaks to its age. The pages are brittle and delicate but have been treated with care to still be in a legible condition. The text is faint from the aging of the ink.

            The Grey Company prepares to depart on its desperate errand, for in two nights they shall leave the Hidden Valley and strike south, following in the footsteps of the Nine Walkers. With the company of the Dunedain ride the sons of Elrond, who are desirous to go to the war.

This diary is dated several days earlier.

I’ve sat on this bed, in this room, for three days now. After having been chased through the Lone-lands by all sorts of fell creatures, I was attacked by a Warg. In the Trollshaws!  These are dark times indeed if such beasts would come hither to the lands so close to Imladris. 

The sky was dark and cloudy, and Katrandil was making her way to Imladris alone, clad in nothing but some rags that made her look like a Dunlending. How she came to the possession of them, no-one knows. With nothing but the shards of a broken sword and a pouch of water, she was trying to find shelter in the night. 

This tale begins in a kitchen. Specifically the kitchens of Imladris. Young Gileryn was a newly arrived guest among the Noldor elves of the valley, and was still somewhat of a mind to do things himself instead of asking. This included feeding himself. While yes, there was already bread made, he did not know if that was made for someone or simply stock. So the young elf felt the best choice was to make his own bread.

Ada,

I write this first letter to assure you of my safe arrival in Imladris. I miss you all and the sea already, but I have resolved myself to be quite brave in this whole affair, as it was, after all, my choice. They valley's loud streams will be some measure of comfort, though.