time

With a curved bow in his hand, he marched through the barren wasteland underneath the mask of darkness the land has given him. Soon, he shifted from being out in the open towards the cover of trees and rocks to hide him from sight. He waited, and his instincts were correct for soon, he had heard voices. Voices he recognized – one was croaky and crisp with age and weariness, whilst the other was simply aggressive and showing strength through even his voice.

Díllothwen insisted on her husband writing something down...not only would it help him remember how to write (considering he does not do so often), his inner thinking might be able to be understood. Undómion never thought of the purpose as to why his wife persisted, but he complied.

A recent work translated into Westron it read as thus:

Waves of time rise and fall