The paper is stuffed haphazardly into the journal, as if it was torn out and reluctantly threaded into the new book. The Sindarin in which it is written is shaky as if the hands writing were trembling.
We have finally reached the Valley of Imladris. I thought I would feel relieved at returning home, but instead I feel sick every time I look upon the faces of those who stayed behind, and even those whom I fought alongside. I find little comfort in food, or in sleep. Sleep is the worst. I relive nightmares every time I close my eyes. Not even walking alongside the Falls brings me any relief like it once did.
I thought I would find some comfort in Cuvallorn returning to Imladris with me. Prior to our war against the Shadow, he resided in Eryn Galen as a scholar. Since we began our journey back, however, he has not spoken once. Several of us, myself included, have tried all we can, but naught a word passes his lips. I have left him in the hands of the healers of the Vale, but they have reported no progress. I know he enjoyed music once, so maybe I shall bring him an instrument. I won’t play for him - that may worsen his condition.
I have heard nothing from or about Lothlorien or Mallossel. I shall now dash the hopes of that expectation. She is at just as much fault as I, and I refuse to be the first to reach out to mend it. She is free to do as she wishes, just as I am. That doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it.
There were a pair of elves critically wounded in the war. Cardanith was, apparently, one of them. The other is an elf I am unfamiliar with, but I am told that both are under the intensive care of Lord Elrond until they succumb or awaken. I hope for their recovery, but it is a small hope. As for myself, I will not speak to the healers. I will grow hungry soon enough, and the dreams will subside in time, surely. To say something would be putting undue stress on already overworked kin.
I can hear my father now, chastising me for not eating like he did when I was a child. The difference there being I was a picky eater who turned my nose up at the dishes he prepared. Now, just the thought of eating makes my stomach turn. There should be many others eating with me who shall never have that chance again.
- Visit the smiths about repairing my shield. That troll in the mountains did a number on it.
- Find an instrument to bring to Cúvallorn. Not a lute. Too many bad memories.
- Try to stomach some fruit.
Write to Mal
