Post by ellahad on Jun 7, 2013 9:47:02 GMT -5
A letter to the hobbit Bulgo Bracegirdle in Bree, on the nature of the silvan Eldar of Laurelindorenan, and a brief history of Ellahad, son of Orodir, Scholar of Lorien
A fair and warm greeting to you, hobbit Bulgo, on this day of mid-summer, from the 21st Hall in Moria. I am sending this letter to you with a party of stout dwarf guards who are journeying to Hollin Gate, and will make the best possible arrangements for it to make its way to Bree with what haste it may. I hope that it finds its way to you before the oaken leaves make their last falling in this current year.
Rare, it seems, that a hobbit of Bree would take a keen interest in the lore of another race, and moreover the history of one such as myself. For it is apparent to me that I must seem as strange and absurd to you and your kin as you seem to me and mine. But it is precisely for this reason, and for the sincerity of your heart at our seemingly chance meeting at The Prancing Pony as the daffodils were first blooming not but two cycles of the moon past, that I will attempt to answer your questions in your native tongue, as I may.
You asked me of my history, and what paths brought me to Bree. Forgive me for not having the time to answer your questions then, as urgent matters pressed. But know that I was born in the year 2218 of the current Age, the Third of Middle-earth. My father's kin are of the people of the Lord Celeborn, who are elves of Doriath of old, ere the fall of Morgoth and the ruin of Beleriand. My grand sires followed The Lord and the Lady Galadriel through long years into the lands now called Lindon, Eregion, and Lorien. In the golden wood of Lorien under the eaves of the mallorn, long ago, we were welcomed by our long-sundered kin, elves who have lived in the vales of Anduin from time immemorial. My mother’s kin were of the first elves of Lorien, who have walked those lands since the twilight age before the first dawn.
But to tell you the tales of the paths that I have tread is more than this brief letter can contain, perhaps for another time. Nonetheless, to know anything of these paths I must first tell you of the failing of my people. For from my earliest youth, I perceived that the power of the Lady of the wood, Galadriel, was an unassailable and invincible force. But in this I was wrong, for we are fading. As the mystery of the fate of Arda unfolds, it is clear that Middle-earth is becoming a memory for elves of things past. A grey veil slowly descends upon us, a veil that will soon turn Middle-earth into a colorless and tasteless place.
Being away from my homeland for so long has allowed me to perceive things clearly. Only when one sees "from the fields looking into the larder", as your saying goes, dear hobbit, can one truly have the clearest sight. For Lorien is an island of fading power and dimming light in a sea of malice. Orcs and wargs assail our borders to the west, and the darkness of Dol Goldur broods evil and breeds constant wickedness to the east. It is now the time of last hope and for all of the free peoples to fight, even if it be but a last bitter part of the long slow loss. But be not discouraged, friend, for hope in victory for free peoples still lingers while some courage remains. Alas, what hope is there for my people, Eldar for whom victory does not change the heavy burden of mortality upon Arda? Nor the dimming of the light of the Valar within our hearts, and the coming ages of Men? Where is our victory? To the sea? To the sea it must seemingly be. But that is no victory for an elf of Middle-earth who remembers it in its beauty, rather a reluctant surrender to a forlorn fate.
For my part, I studied for long years in my native land and in Imladris (Rivendell in your tongue), until I reached a level of knowledge where my masters bade me to explore other lands and the lore of their peoples. All this was to better prepare myself for the years of strife in which we now find ourselves. I traveled first alone and with much difficulty to the elven havens of Edhellond, near to the great sea. In those days the oldest of the great trees now in your land were not yet even green sprouts from fallen acorns. My heart indeed longed for my home, but throughout the years I fought beside the brave dwarves of Ered Luin and Moria, the children of the kings of men in the North, the men of Bree, and the few remaining Companies of elves that yet remain in the west of Middle-earth. Of these tales there is much to tell, but what can truly be said? To Bree I come as need drives me. I do this to consult with masters of lore and to fulfill requests of my teachers. But I do this also to celebrate the light of Middle-earth with others of free will while it yet remains bright. For there is great joy still in your hobbit-folk, Bulgo, and the dwarves, and in men as well.
But know that I feel a great tide rising, a tide that will determine the fate of all things free, and fell. Soon also I feel I will return to Lorien and remain, to fight for the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim against the shadow of the East. Upon defeat of the enemy, I too may yield to the call within my heart of the sea as have many of my kin done before, to one day journey with the host of Celeborn to the havens, and then to Eldamar upon the Lonely Isle. Or, as fate may decide, I shall lay down my last breath here upon the shores of my birth, in Lorien, an elf in service to light and the memory of the joys of the firstborn.
With sincere intentions, and with the blessings of Elbereth upon you,
Ellahad of Lorien
21st Hall of Moria
Laer, Mid-Summer's Day
A fair and warm greeting to you, hobbit Bulgo, on this day of mid-summer, from the 21st Hall in Moria. I am sending this letter to you with a party of stout dwarf guards who are journeying to Hollin Gate, and will make the best possible arrangements for it to make its way to Bree with what haste it may. I hope that it finds its way to you before the oaken leaves make their last falling in this current year.
Rare, it seems, that a hobbit of Bree would take a keen interest in the lore of another race, and moreover the history of one such as myself. For it is apparent to me that I must seem as strange and absurd to you and your kin as you seem to me and mine. But it is precisely for this reason, and for the sincerity of your heart at our seemingly chance meeting at The Prancing Pony as the daffodils were first blooming not but two cycles of the moon past, that I will attempt to answer your questions in your native tongue, as I may.
You asked me of my history, and what paths brought me to Bree. Forgive me for not having the time to answer your questions then, as urgent matters pressed. But know that I was born in the year 2218 of the current Age, the Third of Middle-earth. My father's kin are of the people of the Lord Celeborn, who are elves of Doriath of old, ere the fall of Morgoth and the ruin of Beleriand. My grand sires followed The Lord and the Lady Galadriel through long years into the lands now called Lindon, Eregion, and Lorien. In the golden wood of Lorien under the eaves of the mallorn, long ago, we were welcomed by our long-sundered kin, elves who have lived in the vales of Anduin from time immemorial. My mother’s kin were of the first elves of Lorien, who have walked those lands since the twilight age before the first dawn.
But to tell you the tales of the paths that I have tread is more than this brief letter can contain, perhaps for another time. Nonetheless, to know anything of these paths I must first tell you of the failing of my people. For from my earliest youth, I perceived that the power of the Lady of the wood, Galadriel, was an unassailable and invincible force. But in this I was wrong, for we are fading. As the mystery of the fate of Arda unfolds, it is clear that Middle-earth is becoming a memory for elves of things past. A grey veil slowly descends upon us, a veil that will soon turn Middle-earth into a colorless and tasteless place.
Being away from my homeland for so long has allowed me to perceive things clearly. Only when one sees "from the fields looking into the larder", as your saying goes, dear hobbit, can one truly have the clearest sight. For Lorien is an island of fading power and dimming light in a sea of malice. Orcs and wargs assail our borders to the west, and the darkness of Dol Goldur broods evil and breeds constant wickedness to the east. It is now the time of last hope and for all of the free peoples to fight, even if it be but a last bitter part of the long slow loss. But be not discouraged, friend, for hope in victory for free peoples still lingers while some courage remains. Alas, what hope is there for my people, Eldar for whom victory does not change the heavy burden of mortality upon Arda? Nor the dimming of the light of the Valar within our hearts, and the coming ages of Men? Where is our victory? To the sea? To the sea it must seemingly be. But that is no victory for an elf of Middle-earth who remembers it in its beauty, rather a reluctant surrender to a forlorn fate.
For my part, I studied for long years in my native land and in Imladris (Rivendell in your tongue), until I reached a level of knowledge where my masters bade me to explore other lands and the lore of their peoples. All this was to better prepare myself for the years of strife in which we now find ourselves. I traveled first alone and with much difficulty to the elven havens of Edhellond, near to the great sea. In those days the oldest of the great trees now in your land were not yet even green sprouts from fallen acorns. My heart indeed longed for my home, but throughout the years I fought beside the brave dwarves of Ered Luin and Moria, the children of the kings of men in the North, the men of Bree, and the few remaining Companies of elves that yet remain in the west of Middle-earth. Of these tales there is much to tell, but what can truly be said? To Bree I come as need drives me. I do this to consult with masters of lore and to fulfill requests of my teachers. But I do this also to celebrate the light of Middle-earth with others of free will while it yet remains bright. For there is great joy still in your hobbit-folk, Bulgo, and the dwarves, and in men as well.
But know that I feel a great tide rising, a tide that will determine the fate of all things free, and fell. Soon also I feel I will return to Lorien and remain, to fight for the Lord and Lady of the Galadhrim against the shadow of the East. Upon defeat of the enemy, I too may yield to the call within my heart of the sea as have many of my kin done before, to one day journey with the host of Celeborn to the havens, and then to Eldamar upon the Lonely Isle. Or, as fate may decide, I shall lay down my last breath here upon the shores of my birth, in Lorien, an elf in service to light and the memory of the joys of the firstborn.
With sincere intentions, and with the blessings of Elbereth upon you,
Ellahad of Lorien
21st Hall of Moria
Laer, Mid-Summer's Day
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