My fond greetings from beyond the Anduin, within the depths of that which was once Greenwood the Great.
Fell creatures dwell here in Mirkwood, savage and strange and unlike any I have yet seen. Here, in the decrepitly beautiful ruins of Dannenglor, the Enemy keeps their prisoners. Even during high daytime, the light is weak, here. And the rumors I have heard are true – there are day-walking Trolls, more powerful than I have ever seen, as Thalya and I found out. We were victorious, by the grace of the Valar it seemed, and lived to tell the tale.
As you know, I am quite tall — but I am dwarfed in the shadow of these day-walking abominations. They are far from the worst. Far, far from the worst. I will not speak to you of other things, as you need not know. I do not want you to.
At night I cannot help but to look back and think… My life now is so much different than my life “back home.” My life after coming to the western reaches of Eriador – the Shire, Bree, when we first visited Tinnúdir. And traveled to Amon Sûl. We were so much more care-free – ah, I would give anything to be back there.
My very soul itself feels heavy, being here. This is an oppressive, almost tangible darkness. Anything could be just beyond my lantern, and it does not help me rest. I have not slept comfortably in weeks. My memories are what I have now to keep me comfortable. And… I… I wish I could see you. Thalya is so serious, and I know little of her personally. I miss your company.
As my people say:
Ná Elbereth veria le, no in elenath hîlar nan hâd gîn.
May Elbereth protect you, and her stars shine upon your path.