Anarya, the 38th day of Yávië
It is evening now, and I am writing this at my desk, as usual. You would not think anything has changed - everything is in place as it always is, my room is (hopefully) neat as usual, and the constellations shine in the sky in a most familiar fashion. Yet I feel as if my entire world has been turned upside down.
We in the Valley had received messages several days ago telling us of the safe return of Belethoriel’s company. I had been in the Library at the time, when the news arrived, and nearly upset an ink-well in my excitement - something I have not done in several centuries. The party would be expected to arrive in several days. The wait filled me with suspense, for though I was glad that they had returned, I knew not if any of their party were injured, or missing.
This morning, Tinwen and I went out to the Moor. She was short of several healing herbs, and thought to gather more for the infirmary’s stores for the winter. I also felt that a few herbs and roots for dye and inks would not be amiss. The day was perfect - clear and sunny, with a slight crispness in the air. We took a picnic lunch with us, and returned quite late in the afternoon, with two baskets full of all manner of herbs.
Imagine my chagrin when I heard at dinner-time that Belethoriel’s party had returned to Imladris while I was gone, and that there had already been a meeting of Vanimar in the Hall of Fire! I sorely regretted going out with Tinwen that morning. But in the evening, I decided to take a walk around the Valley, hoping to come across some of those who had returned. I saw Dolthafaer standing by the House of Elrond, and was so relieved to see him alive and well that I hastily made my way to his side. I feared that I had been too forward in my greetings, but he smiled and all was right again.
I made quite a fool of myself, as I attempted to say how glad I was at his return - though of course I meant his party as a whole. But then he said that he had thought of me often in Angmar, and had meant to send me a letter, but of course there was no way to send it. It was most astonishing, and I was quite dumbfounded at his words. I blundered my way through the conversation, but no disaster occurred, save that my heart must have been beating loud enough to be heard over the waterfall.
Then he told me that Tancamir yet lived, and had returned from Angmar with them to Imladris. Right then I thought I was surely dreaming, but no, I pinched myself to make sure. I do not quite remember what I said after that, but it was probably embarrassingly sentimental, though he did not seem to mind. I went home grinning like a fool, full of such joy I felt I would drown in it.
It grows late, and I am only writing this because I find rest meaningless and perhaps impossible in my current state. Everyone has long since retired to their chambers, but I do not think rest shall come to me any time soon. Why dream, when the waking world has suddenly become more wonderful than any I could have imagined? My brother yet lives, and Dolthafaer - no, Nuldafairë as he has given me leave to call him now - has returned safely to me. Nuldafairë - his name sounds so much lovelier in the High-Elven tongue, and I fear it shall figure prominently in my thoughts from now on.
A thousand thoughts are milling about my head, but I am not going to write them down lest I betray myself if this journal falls into the wrong hands. I think that I [the rest of the sentence is crossed out heavily]
The rest of the page is covered with much writing that seems to be scratched out and obscured. At the bottom of the page, a small uilos flower is sketched in ink, surrounded by four stars. There is a smudge at the lowest corner, as if the writer had fallen asleep with the book open.
