'... the companies ebb and flow alike to tides, each band set out and return as others take their place.The camp quietens, except for the occasional cry where the buisied healers bustle over their charges. We would do well to have thee here with thy arts, but there is one who wins admiration from all. Tall, fair, soft spoken, Galvathalion I believe he is named. Some rumour of a new venom on the blades of the enemy, he and his aides struggle hard to combat it. Yet I am assured they will triumph, for they seem wise in all they do.
My dear! How I wish thou couldst see the leader of this host! Mayhap thou knowest of him, one called Curugirion? His hair is as silver as seaspray in moonlight. There are few I trust, as thou knowest, in the dance of arms, but I am satisfied to do as he bids whilst we are so beset. He is ably assisted by his household, alas I have not all their names, - the tides and storms of conflict pull faces and names past one so swiftly. There is one, though, that I have aspied, Aearandir, darker in skin than some, lithe and quick upon his feet, who attends patiently to all.
There is no time to choose where one will fight, or with whom, for time and time again the call goes out and those who are present must answer if they can. A tumult of information, reports and speculation abounds of where these foul things will strike next, or where their nests and breeding grounds lie.
Messengers go north to the Men, and even unto the dwarves. There is one creature here, who by her spirit one must conclude she is some kin to us, yet by voice and language she appears some fallen thing, more akin to the Men of the south! She speaks much of battle, yet floats in nothing but silks. How thou wouldst stare!
I fear she is dreadfully scarred about the face, as for decency she wears a veil. I must pity the poor creature, outlandish and outspoken as she is, for a wound to prove the match of elven vitaility it must have been such a great disfigurement. Rare it is, for one of our flesh to be so maimed, I believe it wise of her not to submit us all to the horrors of her face. One could wish the same of her opinion; yet at times I find I agree with her desire to cease speech and strike at the foe, crude though her manner is. She delights in setting things by the ears, and twirls about like a child eager to capture the attention of her parents. Yet, I understand such ... she has come amongst us, and all is a wonder to her... '
