Have you ever awoken after a dream, and wondered whether you still were dreaming? A lingering feeling of surreality has clung to me, after leaving. It has been a long, and relatively uneventful journey (thus far) into the plains of Rohan. I hope you will forgive my leaving — but the time has come again for me to take up my bow and join an ever-growing number of my people in the south.
I am thrown abruptly into a sea of interaction with the race of Man. I will grudgingly admit, from time to time, that I find this confusing, awkward, and tiresome. The Horse-Lords are well-meaning but suspicious of my kind, to be frank. They stare. Their furthest outpost lies uneasily close to my homeland, due south. And I must hide my amusement when I hear them speak of it as “haunted”. Haunted! I have no recollection of being a ghost or malevolent spirit.
There is a calm here, but there is a storm coming. I can sense it. The shadow grows ever longer, so may the Valar protect us all. May it never reach you.
Namárië, nîn Meleth.