Penned in the House of Healing,
In the Realm of Dorwinion.

'Greybeard'. This is the name by which I am known among the Elves in the House of Healing, for despite the skilful questioning of Lord Iavasdir, master of Dorwinion, and his subtle probing of my open mind, my memory -- and thus my name -- remains closed. And the blood of my forebears is also uncertain, for though it is agreed by all that I am no Easterling, Haradrim or Dunlending, my lineage has been the subject of much debate among my Elven hosts. While some suggest that I might be of the Northmen of Rhovanion, others deem that my knowledge of the Quenya tongue must surely mean that my ancestors were of the High Men of Númenórë, and are thus convinced that my line must therefore be of the Elendili.

However, they surmise that I am not one of the grim Rangers of Eriador, the last remnant of the Dúnedain of Arnor, but a Man of the South-kingdom of Gondor; most likely an inhabitant of Dol Amroth, whose people commonly speak Sindarin as do I, and whose lore-keepers know the Quenya tongue; a people who never intermarried with the Men of Twilight -- that is, the 'Middle Men' -- and so these Elves are therefore certain I am of pure Númenórean blood. This, they say, is evident in my features, for my eyes are sea-grey, and my skin is pale, and they say that it can be seen that my hair was dark ere it became grey; it is also their belief that I possess the greater lifespan and powers of mind and body gifted to the Men of Númenor by the Valar after the War of Wrath, and it was these gifts that enabled me to endure the long torment of my captivity.

Now such is their delight in their reasoning, that I am loath to gainsay them; and perhaps the fleeting impression in my mind of burnished roofs and doors was indeed those of Dol Amroth, and mayhap my vision of a ship upon the sea showed naught but  passage across the Bay of Belfalas, but I am unconvinced. For nowhere on the map of Dor-en-Ernil that I was eagerly shown did I see the great encircling mountains of my brief insight, nor do I feel that the high blood of Westernesse flows within my veins. And I am certainly not tall and lordly as the Númenóreans are wont to be described!

The notion that I am one of the Free Men of the North -- or so they are named by the Elves -- seems to me more likely, for many are the Mannish tribes and kingdoms of old who did not succumb to the evil power of Sauron, and (I am told) remain steadfast allies of Gondor even now. And so it is thought that perhaps I am a Barding of Dale or a Lake-man of Esgaroth, for both townships were rebuilt soon after Smaug the Great Worm was slain seven-and-seventy years ago, and I am old in years; how long I and my friend suffered in thraldom I cannot guess, nor can I say how long ago he perished. Now Esgaroth upon the Long Lake lies not two hundred leagues from Dorwinion, and companies of traders oft traverse the long miles hither and thither by wain and barge; and so Lord Iavasdir has arranged that tidings of my plight be sent northwards.

However Ioriston, the Lambengolmo, says neither yea or nay to either argument, and yet his counsel has given me much on which to ponder.

Ah! I esteem this venerable Elf, for his wisdom spans many Ages of Arda. It was he who deemed that recording my thoughts in writing might yet aid the recovery of my memories, and so presented me with this fine hand-bound journal in which to chronicle my reflections. I am grateful for his companionship at my bedside, and many are the pleasant hours we have spent speaking of lore and tales of yore. But I digress...

He accedes that both the Gondorian and Northman proposals would account for my foray into Rhûn, for long have the Easterlings been enemies of Gondor, and though it has been nigh half a century since the Balchoth invasion of Calenardhon, no doubt the Steward who rules in Minas Tirith would yet send scouts into the lands of the East; and ever have the Men of Rhovanion warred with the Men of Darkness and so would do likewise.

And yet now I cannot but wonder if perhaps there might be some truth in the claim that I am, if not wholly but in part, of Númenórean stock. For Ioriston tells me that Men fear the Valar, rather than love them, and do not understand the purposes of the Powers, which seems to me uncommonly strange. However, says he, the Númenóreans venerated both Ilúvatar and the Valar ere they -- save for the Elendili -- succumbed to the treachery of Sauron and began their dark worship of Morgoth Bauglir. Upon the silent and sacred summit of Meneltarma, the Holy Mountain of Númenor, the King would utter prayers and thanksgiving to Eru Ilúvatar during the feasts of Erukyermë, Erulaitalë and Eruhantalë in the spring, midsummer, and autumn; and the Witnesses of Manwë  -- three great Eagles -- would attend each of the Three Prayers, as a token of Manwë Súlimo's approval.

Now it is common here for the Elves to sing odes which venerate and call upon the Valar, and to me this is befitting of the Children of Ilúvatar, but I remember naught of the ways of Men. I myself honour Eru and the Aratar, for it is recorded in the Valaquenta:

In the beginning Eru, the One, who in the Elvish tongue is named Ilúvatar, made the Ainur of his thought; and they made a great Music before him. In this Music the World was begun; for Ilúvatar made visible the song of the Ainur, and they beheld it as a light in the darkness. And many among them became enamoured of its beauty, and of its history which they saw beginning and unfolding as in a vision. Therefore Ilúvatar gave to their vision Being, and set it amid the Void, and the Secret Fire was sent to burn at the heart of the World; and it was called Eä.¹

And though Eru dwells not in Arda and His abode is the Timeless Halls beyond the confines of the World, we are beholden to the Flame Imperishable for our very existence, and that is surely reason enough for we Eruhíni to revere Ilúvatar and the Valar, the offspring of his thought and His emissaries on Arda?

However Ioriston deems that this is not so with the descendants of the Elendili any longer. For while the Númenórean kings were priest-kings among their peoples, the line of kings was broken when Eärnur was overcome by the Morgul-lord well nigh a century ago, and he knows not if the Ruling Stewards preserved the ancient rites and customs; though it is his hope that the old wisdom brought out of the West still lingers in Gondor. Nevertheless, he regards my devotion to Eru Ilúvatar and the Valar as uncommon in a Man. And, says he, be I a Man of the North or of the West, neither premise accounts for my curious ability to speak the Vanyarin tongue...

1. The Silmarillion, "Valaquenta: Account of the Valar and Maiar According to the Lore of the Eldar"