I asto eleniva: The dust of stars.
I have begun moving towards the mountains and beneath them now, in preparation for setting paths out ahead of time so he may have an easy way of it. Too many stories I have heard, of un-knowing delvers into the deeps failing to step carefully and falling to darkness. I would not have such a fate for Lamaenon.
It is very dark here, in the deep places of the world. I write by the crystal lantern of a smallfather, who stares over my shoulder in curiosity; he cannot read my words.
There are many dangerous places here, in Moria. rock-slides, treatcherous paths, goblins... worse, I fear, the further I go. My aim is the dale, but my eyes I have often found enraptured. For long I have known the Dwarves to be master crafters of things strong and practical, but never beauty.
My makers were wise, to name me so. Sila-rond; dark caverns full of stars. Surely they already could see my love of precious shining gems, and how they glow in the right light, before I was even in this world.
Perhaps the cavesare all natural things, I do not know. But in such a one I came upon a space that rose away from me to such heights that I could not see the cave-top. Nonetheless, there were a hundred-thousand glowing lights above me, from what I know not. Crystals that beat in time to some deep heart-pulse? Creatures that had luminescence of their own, a communal lifebeat of light? I only know that it was beautiful, and looked as if someone had crushed a star and scattered its dust over the ceiling.
