A fool I was to think an elf could help me, even one such as Tinnurion. Here I am on my way home, not knowing what to do. Accursed elf! To sow doubt in my mind in such a manner. Nay I will deliver these books, I will find someone else who can reveal its secrets, and I will make my people proud! But for you, my reader, I will tell exactly what happened in the woodland realm of Thranduil in my search for that elf.
After a day's march, my elven escort and I arrived at a curious elven dwelling. It was seemingly built under rock and stone, but held no charm of an honest dwarrow dwelling. Still, it was a welcome change from the sight of an endless number of trees - over whose roots I had tripped near to a dozen times! The air felt breathable and music and laughter sounded more familiar.
Some scrawny elf, who was apparently captain of the guard even before I mistook him for a lass, told me everything I needed to know; they would offer me free food! And of course I also inquired after the elf Tinnurion, who apparently wasn't there. He had left Felegoth not long after Mirkwood was renamed to Eryn Lasgalen, to some remote place further north in the forest. He was never the sort to enjoy the company of many, yet ever found peace in the presence of a few. He once told my cousin Fruni that the only bustle he enjoyed was the bustle of a dwarven city. He must have been impressed with our halls in the Blue Mountains. Seems not all elves lack good taste, though the meal they offered me sure did not help to convince me of that thought.
Anyhow, as you may imagine, I was thoroughly annoyed by the news that this elf had decided to hide himself away some 20 miles northward. Here I was hoping I would finally get a good night's rest without some pointy root sticking in my back. Not to mention these woods would give braver dwarves than I the jitters! They talk as if the forest has been lifted of its shadow, but I sure haven't seen much sun creeping through the foliage either! Nay, it is the same forest it was nigh to twenty years ago, when I ventured here on a journey for inspiration. Or at least I think it was twenty years... Might have been more recent... I can't remember.
*small side note* Look up date of Mirkwood journey.
So here I was with a handful of elven bread and a sack of wine, ready to depart. I must say this vintage is not bad. Though of course I would never say that out loud. Sure wish they had given me two sacks though... This bread on the other hand, well, I'm not even sure it is bread at all! Tastes funny, and sure does not fill as much as they said it would. I had three portions already and still felt famished. Why don't elves have some good delicious meats? Some venison or pork! Salted pork! Aye that would fill any dwarf's belly. Some stiff ale to wash it all down...
Anyway, I felt in a hurry. I wanted to speak with this elusive elf before the coming of winter. The pass of Caradhras is not easily taken when the snow lies thick. It is not easily taken any time of year. Which reminds me of this lovely verse I came up with nigh to fifty years ago. At least I think it was fifty years... Might have been more recent...
It goes something like this:
I am cold and cruel 'tis true,
Those who saw my peak are few,
Along my long and slipper path,
The wind blows wild and full of wrath,
My frost can freeze the fairest folk,
Beware the powers I provoke!
But I regress, aye, that is another story not quite suited here.
After some time travelling the woods as northward as I could, I came to a mysterious glade. I felt like some spell had lifted, for an autumn wind blew gently in my beard and I could see and feel a warm sun in the sky. It was here that I tried to use the black whistle, which I had nearly forgotten I had! I brought the whistle up to my lips and blew as hard as I would have done on a dwarven horn.
But nothing happened.
Hardly any noise came out of it. It was like the darn thing was broken!
I tried it again, but again nothing happened. I grew impatient somewhat after the 32nd attempt and decided to sit down and have a bite to eat... from that elven bread. Oh by the sacred beards of the Seven, why do elves not have any meat?! Surely they could show some hospitality towards their visitors and shoot a buck or two. These elves seem to forget bows were made for hunting! But aye, I know, elves like their plates clean. I guess lettuce does not leave stains on their pretty hair, and cabbage does not grease up their pretty fingers. If elves cared a little less about their pretty faces, they might just grow a beard! HA!
Well who am I kidding, bearded elves don't exist, I mean, some fellows tried to tell me there is an elf at the port in Lindon who has a beard, but honestly, I think they had a bit too much to drink and saw instead an elf stuffing his face with cabbage.
As I made these observations whilst sitting in that open glade in the forest, eating that strange bread and sipping the last of the wine, the sun was starting to hide itself behind the horizon and the stars appeared high in the sky. I must say, this moment was one of the very best of this entire journey. I know not why, for I was nowhere near to completing my quest and much too short on wine to care little for it. But there was something about that place that carried me to realms unknown. I started feeling drowsy and decided to lay down my head for a little while. As I tried to find the most comfortable spot on the grassy field, I noticed the whistle lying right in front of me. It must have slipped from my pocket, but looking at it made me want to pick it up and blow it, no matter how tired I felt. Thus, I blew the whistle once more ere it slipped from my hand and I fell into a deep slumber.
It seemed like days had passed when I woke up, yet in truth, very little time had passed at all. In fact the sun's final rays were still desperately trying to light up the sky when I noticed a tall, black robed figure standing just beside me. His eyes were a pale grey, and his hairs black as the northern sky. He looked rather ominous for an elf, but an elf he was. Aye, this was the elf I had been looking for. Tinnurion!
