My heart longs to return to Rivendell once again, as I grow weary of the Battle. I am close, and for this I am thankful. Deep within the keep of Helegrod, a great evil has taken hold. We battle forth against Giants, Drakes, and Spiders to do combat with the great undead drake Thorog. The wind is chill in the passes, and within the keep itself the air is stale and wet, clinging to one’s skin as if it were the cobwebs by which I feel surrounded at all times.
And then, Thorog himself, the great dragon, resurrected from death by some evil force. Against this monstrosity, twenty-four Men and Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits stood alike, bow, spear, axe and sword at the ready. The battle itself was brutal, absolutely exhausting, but we emerged victorious, the great beast slain before us. Now, I begin the slow journey through the mountains to Rivendell, once again, to inform Lord Elrond of the monster’s defeat.
Though my body is tired, my heart is glad, for soon, I hope, I will see you once again.
Namárië, nîn Meleth.