By candlelight Faernathron sits writing in his personal diary, he knows that when he sails, he will leave it behind, and should he fall before that, well, then others will perhaps find a moment of respite in his words, after all, the musings of an erstwhile inhabitant of these lands, could become inspiration to some, though truth be told, he does not think his current entry will be one of the passages well remembered.
The small tome lies on the table before him, the words flowing across the yellow pages, ink still drying after his last entry, in fine sindarin letters:
Though ages have already passed, it seems to me the longest period of this life, is the one I am experiencing right now. Much has happened since she left, and I know not even if she got my letter left in Imladris... so many things have changed, so much has happened, yet.. so much remains the same.
The wayhouse is complete, and the first have already used it on their way to the grey havens... I feel sad when I see kin depart, yet, in time I know I shall myself set sail, never again to walk amongst the trees of Lothlórien, never again to view the rolling hills of the horselords...
Never again to see her....
I wonder how it will feel, to look one last time upon the green hills of the east, I wonder if peace will have settled once more, or if indeed we shall end up fleeing, abandoning the lands to the darkness... it grows in the east, yet.. so many are those fighting it, even on small scale such as the mother teaching her child to be just and fair, the merchant, offering a beggar a meal, or we of the guard, offering our aid to the horse lords, should they need a guide through the forest of the lady... Only those who walk long after us, will truly know what came to pass...
Hope is still bright, that someday the darkness may be banished once and for all... in a way it is sad that the evil spawned so long ago, still remains to haunt those who now live here, dwelling under a threat, that they did not ask for, that came into being ages past... when elves still dominated the east... now, we are but shadows...
Bleak is my outlook... but I know it is tainted, for though I have hope for men, naugrim, perian and eldar... I retain little hope for myself. The lady Galadriel was wise when she tasked me thus with the guard... else.. I would for sure have faded... ever does my joy vanish into that pit in my heart, and though my soul teeters on the edge, it too knows, that in time... it shall fade into that dark place, where no light shines any longer...
Faernathron looks upon the letters, blows out the candle and lets darkness fall upon the little room inside the wayhouse of the Faer Tirith, a sigh is heard as he remains sitting in darkness.
