Linguleth

The Wood-elves generally conceive of their woods as their world, and the rare sight of stars shining through the branches of the trees is their great delight, for it is always dark in shadowy Mirkwood. Game animals are still plentiful in the northern part, and so the elves are comfortable and well provisioned with meat and skins. As they do not keep herds of animals, nor are they skilled at raising crops, having no cleared land fit for this purpose, the Wood-elves have abundant leisure time, which they spend in feasting, singing, dancing, and playing games.

The dangers one encounters on the leagues between the Lone-Lands and the Ered Luin, and the wretched aspect of the inhabitants cannot be understated. The principal way through the Bree-land is upon the old highway, built by one of their kings, and is long-neglected and crumbling away: it seems the people have retained nothing of the activity and energy of their ancestors, for good roads encourage trade into remote provinces, and this encourages industry and enforcement of order.

This day I came to the Bridge, hard by the Spire of Meeting, where my retinue gathered. There I saw three of the Fountain’s guards, with shields and spears in their hands, and beside them stood my clerk Sorontar, who carried a stack of papers, and was dressed all in somber black cloth, as if he were part of a mourning procession.

This day I was forced to leave my chambers, concluding it was unfit that I should ask Linguleth for a dancing lesson, and not be present, even if Maephaer should not attend; and so resolved to go by myself.

"It was a very close contest," remarked the Lord Ambassador. He had returned to his usual place in the Hall of Fire, beside Sogadan, and was of the proud belief that he had averted a national catastrophe.

We reached the Valley in good time. Lord Estarfin was more quiet than usual, perhaps contemplating the making of the sword he had been charged with crafting for our Lord Anglachelm. Close by the chalk path that leads to the Valley, we met a elf lady, a soldierly-type, by the name of Limiriel.

Sudden change in wind and the leaves blew the other way. Autumn was truly here and had been for a long time now. The light sifting throught the window hit the embroidery she held in her hands. It was only partially done. A grand piece it would become! Golden threads interweaving with blue and white, creating birds on the chestnut brown, silken fabric. You could almost hear them sing, if you listened closely.