February 23, 2009
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.
February 23, 2009
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.
February 17, 2009
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.
February 17, 2009
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.