In Faelalan's room lay a plain oaken trunk, bound by iron straps. There is no lock on it, for there is truly nothing inside it that would interest a would-be robber. Old clothing from another time and of elven make is interred at the bottom, wrapped in yellowing tissue paper and lavender. On top of that are odds and ends; some of it broken jewelry that has no worth other than sentiment. Other parts of this "junk" consist of feathers and trinkets that she must have found pretty to behold. The last and final layer, the top most of this jumble, consists of hundreds of letters. Some are bound up by ribbons, others are floating loose; many are replies to friends that have written her over the years. One bundle, however, catches the eye: it is bound in a wide green velvet ribbon; in the love knot that ties these parchments together is a lock of her braided hair. None of these letters seem to have envelopes that belong to them, but all are folded neatly. Some are only a half a page long, others span several pages both front and back.
When untied, the first letter that one might pick up and read is the oldest, for it is more yellowed than any of the others.
"Dearest El,
"I was surprised when you came to me last night to say your goodbyes. I was upset, too, to learn that you would not tell me whither you would go. I had thought that we were closer than that -- but no. I will not admonish you. You are my friend; this sudden departure, your refusal to tell me where you would go -- it is like you. You had reasons, I imagine, for not telling me. You are a product of your homeland; you can be as mysterious as the lands you come from and precious few ever understand you or know your moods fully. I miss you already, though you have been gone but a few short hours. I would follow you now if I were certain of where you were going and what path you had taken. I suppose, though, that this is why you did not tell me, as you wished to prevent this.
"Your look last night! It reminded me of when we first met. I still remember calling you, in my boisterous way, a frightened coney. How I miss those days! We have been inseparable -- some would say joined at the hip -- ever since then. Is not it a shame that we understand each other so well, but few others do? Alas! my friend, we are like each other in that we must mask our true selves from the world in order to protect what we both hold dear. That, I suppose, is what draws and binds us together. I am not sorry for it. Oh! I wish I had followed you! I long for an adventure these days. Besides, Bree will never be the same without you. It will be quite dull. Whom will I climb to the rooftops with now?
"I gather that I have moped long enough, for my eyes sting. May the Valar guide your steps back to me, my friend, and may the light protect you always.
"Faelalan"
