I know I have yet to speak to you in detail about the places I have traveled, of late. I do not know to whom else I can write… I do not know what to say to my family. To my friends. But maybe you will listen. Without scorn or disapproval or contempt. Also… I cannot tell them. They are too close, too close to know this incredible evil exists barely contained (if that) within reach of Lothlórien.
The forest of Mirkwood, once Greenwood the Great, is oppressively dark and day by day grows more corrupt. The very land seems to rebel under my feet. The Enemy is everywhere, if not in physical form, in spirit. I hope, my dearest friend, that you never set foot here, for I would be heavy of heart to know you too would have borne witness to this dark business.
A group of elves and dwarves had recruited me, recently, to help in what I had always said was a suicide mission. At their side, escorting a prisoner to the very gates of Dol Gûldur, I emerged from the forest feeling the tangible Darkness clinging to me like cobwebs. And there, I found myself standing face to face with three of the Nine – the Nazgûl. The colour drained from my world and I barely remember my actions. I stood frozen in place for what seemed an eternity.
The damn dwarves, the irresponsible dwarves! The elves and dwarves have held no great love for each other and now I have put myself in this danger for what? One dwarf’s insane quest to free his brother and reclaim a prized axe. This is what I have been reduced to! For this, I have put my life on the line in these dismal forests?
The next thing I knew, I was in Emyn Lûm with Thalya again… I am still chilled to my soul, terrified, but cannot show this fear to anyone…. My quest here is not over. I do not know that it ever will be. Each day I wonder why I am here, I wonder what I have to offer. Sometimes, I wonder how this war can even be won. Sometimes I wonder whether it is because I have nowhere else I can go.