Greetings to you all from under the boughs of the gloomy forest, just outside a town of the dead. It could be slightly more pleasant here, could it not?
This was once Greenwood the Great, the land of my Father, he known as Valaríon Avathar the Honourable. It has been changed since the Darkness drove the Thranduil’s people, as my Father was, north and out. He has spoken little to me of this, having dwelt many years in Lothlórien, but perhaps I shall speak with him about his homeland, in which I now I fight a brutal war.
Thalya and I are uneasily lodged in an establishment they call The Haunted Inn – a way-station for those sworn to fight for the Free Peoples. I’ve rather wondered at the legitimacy of the place, for it reminds me of the cruel Forsaken Inn and the ill events that took place there.
Before my father travels West, I dream that he will see his home once more as it was, before he was taken driven to foster in Rivendell, before he came to dwell in Lothlórien and to be with my mother… and, of course… an infant daughter. Me. I fight on behalf of my family, and on behalf of my loved ones who must inhabit all of Arda after I have passed to the West, with the rest of my kind.
My hopes are that everyone is healthy and in good spirits. I wish you would not see Mirkwood from our shores… I do not want you to see such gloom. Please, be well, and I will do my best to do honor to Caras Galadhon, and to those I love.