Into the Shadow

My apologies, friends, for my lack of communication of late. War has come to Mirkwood and I could not ignore the call to action. I have, as such, crossed the Anduin into the forests which were once the home of Thranduil’s people, before they were driven out or to the north. In all my years of looking across the river to this dark, impenetrable wall of trees, I had never set foot on the shores of my father’s homeland.

More allies arrive by the day – Men, Dwarves and Hobbits alike, who seek to aid our kind in our battle to drive the evil from the forest once known as Greenwood the Great. The fighting is already savage, and the wounded, dying, and dead are many. I feel a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach, and I fear this will be unlike the rather tactical stand against Angmar. The Uruk-hai are bloodthirsty and brutal, and the landscape dark and bewildering. What fell creatures dwell further in, I dare not imagine.

I will stand strong against the Shadow, and I pray that this horror will never reach the shores of Lothlórien.

Namárië.

Passing the Time

My greetings from  the high plains of Eregion once again.  Though I have been wandering here with my thoughts for a while, and the beauty of the sun setting against the clouds has lightened my spirits a little.  I must admit, begrudgingly, that I have been rather lonely of late.  Thalya has taken her leave of me, presumably to return to her home in the Grey Havens on personal business – though I had no time to ask… And I doubt I would have been given an answer.

Before I returned to the wind-swept plains here, I had been idly passing the time in Rivendell, but there was nothing for me there.  This lingering melancholy loneliness feels alien. Even though I honestly do not know very much about Thalya – she keeps her thoughts to herself – her absence has affected me in ways unforseen. I feel as though I cannot not admit this to her upon her return, though something within me drives me to do so.

Namärie. I hope you are in good health and spirits in Lóthlorien.

An Awakening of Sorts

My greetings to you all.  I feel as though I have come out of a deep sleep to find myself once again in reality – the stars and the moon over the Anduin seem otherworldly, do they not?  I do not even have a sense of how long I have been away. After a very brief rest, however, I have once again taken leave of Lothlórien.  The familiar sights and smells of home left me reluctant, but I have business to which I must attend. Thalya is waiting for me (and I am sure she is doing so rather impatiently).

My sincere apologies for failing to make this a social call, but I did not feel it necessary to make myself known. Perhaps I will find time to visit again in the future, if you would welcome me.

Namárië.

Caras Galadhon

 

Haarland —

My greetings from Lothlórien!

I wished to show you my home, because I saw your enthrallment at the beauty of Rivendell.  Here, Thalya and I sitting near the fountains close to the center of Caras Galadhon, our city.  In the background, high in the mellyrn are the telain (platforms) upon which we live.  Few Humans have seen this place – if only I could show you.

This was my whole world, before I left, and before and met you.  I look unfamiliar in silken robes, and I rather wonder if you would recognize me.  The long years of my life have been spent in our insular realm among these trees and gardens, existing in quiet, peaceful solitude.  But now, with all I’ve seen and done, I feel so out of place.  I cannot stay here.

I hope that you are well and happy in Rivendell.  I may return sooner than you think – I seem to be traveling far and quickly, in recent days.

Namárië.

(Valaraen)

Kept Outside

Hello, everyone.  Mother, Father.  My friends.  All of you.

I am writing to you from directly outside of Lórien.  See how beautiful it is, even here, the forest outside Lórien lit by the moon and lantern light.  It is calm, and relatively comfortable, for a mere campsite for those who may not enter the wood. I stopped for but a moment to change my clothes and make myself presentable.  And then, excited to return home, I entered Lothlórien.

…And then you, my own people, struck me down as an outsider – an enemy - as I entered our woods.  An arrow was let fly and lodged in my shoulder, and a second nearly missed my back as I tried to get away. Nearly incapacitated by the wound, I crossed the river to safety, and Thalya dressed my injury. I am in shock.

You know me.  I am Valaraen Avariquen, daughter of Valaríon and Alatháriël.  I am known within this wood, my family is known within this wood, as well as Mirkwood to the south, and Rivendell to the west.  Have you put into exile my family?

It is incredibly painful to write this letter – emotionally and phsyically.

I left with your unconditional love and support.  But now, upon my return, I was shot by my own kinsmen. If my family and friends – my own people – will not welcome me back to my own home with open arms… Perhaps I shall find someone who will welcome me to theirs.  

The Flooded Treasury

My greetings from the very depths of Moria.  The last days have been exhausting, and I know not how long I have been awake.  I cannot sleep – the things I have seen recently are indelible, and I am reeling in a state of numb, lasting terror.  A group of my allies gathered, some days ago, to assist the dwarves.  They asked our assistance in finding the path through a flooded treasury, where they believe a legendary artifact of their kind has been sealed away.

I stood ready with Thalya, our allies Rootbeeriel and Xevian, and her husband Trodomir the Dwarf.  I have not asked and will not ask why this marriage has occurred, but I am rather shocked, to be honest.  With no time to consider this odd pairing, we descended the stairs.

We made our way through icy water waist high into caverns full of spine-chilling creatures. Huge toads, hordes of esurient insects and their hive queen, and a horrifying sight that made my blood run cold: a monstrous spider, surrounded by a legion of skittering arachnids.  They all fell lifeless before us, eventually, and we arrived at the vault of this ancient treasury, thinking our duty was done.

But from the pool of water flooding the vault erupted a immeasurably massive, terrifying creature – the Watcher.  Standing our ground against this unspeakably evil being seemed hopeless, but through almost unbelievable strength and courage somehow drove it back into the water from whence it came.

The ordeal was over, and I now write to you, safely within the walls of the underground fortress of the dwarves.  I wish you all well, and am thankful that you are safely away from here.

Namárië.

Into the Waterworks

Haarland —

I am quite grateful that I was able to communicate with you, a link to the outside world is a rare and welcome thing for me.  Your assertion that I am your “favorite Elf” makes me feel quite special.  That is one of the most touching things anyone has ever said to me, and I have been listening to people say things for a long, long time.  I suppose I can say that you are my favorite Human.

We are quite deep beneath the mountains, in a place known as The Waterworks.  The constant sound of rushing and dripping water and the odd blue lighting makes me weary.  The circumstances are uncomfortable – I have no great love of Dwarves (many of my kind do not), and we have taken shelter with them.

The journey down here was not the easiest I have ever made, by far, as you can see above.  Most of the time, I can hold my own, though often it is difficult, it seems that things are never easy here. The circumstances are different than the the hundreds of times you have seen me take up this stance – it is now more often that I must defend myself.  I fear that I will fail to do so.

I am very lonely here, and I rather miss your company.  It was never like this before.  This place makes me so glad that you are safe, somewhere, and that you are content, and happy.  I promise I’ll try as hard as I can to come back.

Namárië.

 

(Valaraen)

The Heart of Fire

Greetings, to you all.  In Moria I am close to you, yet so far away, deep under the mountains.  This is The Heart of Fire, as the Dwarves call it.  The room, an ancient forge, I believe, is unimaginably hot.  Molten metal (or rock, perhaps) pours from an unknown source, feeding the the pools in which they forge their metal.  Believe me when I say that our kind does not belong here.

I cannot in good conscience say that there are days, down here.  There is nothing but darkness – lit by the feeble light of lamps, or by the inner glow of strange crystals in the walls and ceilings.  Even through am still upset as I am with my experience at home, I admit that I have become homesick.

I want to see the sky again.  Please take care – I hope everyone is well.  I do miss you all, that will not change.

Sûri-kylä

Haarland —

It is our last night here in Sûri-kylä, the northernmost Lossoth settlement on the Ice Bay. I cannot wait to come south again, where I can breathe the air without feeling as though I am going to choke on it. I have been fortunate to be given lodging by the Lossoth in their claustrophobic huts of snow and ice, heated inside by a candle, with furs and hides as bed and blanket. Thalya at least has that enormous cat of hers, Steve, to keep her company.

The great lodge, a pavilion made of bone and hide, is large enough for a bazaar and fire pits, forges and workshops. It seems so foreign and barbaric. I must learn to refrain from passing judgement on their kind. The lives of Men seem shut to me, except as an observer.

I leave tomorrow to return to the darkness of Moria, deep underneath the mountains. I do not want to admit this… But I am somewhat afraid.

Namárië.

(Valaraen)

The Bay of Forochel

My warmest greetings from Forochel! You have my apologies for a sudden departure and a long absence. My obligations led me to go with Thalya to the far northern extreme of the world – the shores of the Bay of Forochel.  I would be dishonest, though, if I did not say that part of my departure was for personal reasons. There are some things with which it is too painful and upsetting to deal.

It is beautiful here, but harsh – the air is thin and painfully cold, and the landscape is bleak. The Men of this land are hostile and suspicious of outsiders, though they have given us shelter and appropriate clothing of fur and leather.  I will soon be making the long journey southeast, back towards the depths of Moria. Perhaps I will return for a while, I have unanswered questions and family business.

Though you may think otherwise, you are my friends.  My family. I think of you all often though I’ve only been gone a short time.  And here, it’s hard to keep my thoughts away from this freezing cold.

Namárië.