How do you even start these things?
Agacyra gave me some pages from her journals and told me to write down my thoughts, that it would help me. Maybe she is right but I admit this feels odd but I shall trust the girl and try.
I've reached Gondamon and have found time to sit and write now that my companion, Belodin, has gone to get rest. He has been a delight to travel with though I am starting to think that my distracted mind is giving him poor company, I hope to mend it.
I have been treated well here even if the eyes I meet hold different opinions, I do not question it as I have no reason to. These looks are no different than those I have gotten in the past when I've made way through the streets of Bree in heavier garments that the locals have related with the "Rangers", as they name us.
I was treated to a fine feast and can now finally claim I have tasted dwarven brew and my companion even claims that it was not the best of the dwarven brew, has me curious to try their better ales and I have some hopes to taste it once we reach our destination.
While we ate words were exchanged and the subject of his son came up. A hard topic for the dwarf but even so I pressed him to tell me of his child, in hopes that maybe the warmer memories might just bring some relief. Alas the topic was ended on a heavy note and I did not press further. I can understand his burden.
Over the last couple of days I've felt sorrow and unease and while I try to tell myself everything is alright I have started to think the worst. I am starting to believe that one of my sons have fallen in the south. Maybe this is what my own elders meant when they told me "A mother always knows".
I miss them terribly.
I still remember the day I heard. I was in Esteldín at the time training the young women who were of age to learn how to defend the home and family. It is there I saw Halbarad and soon learned of his business, a messenger for our chieftain and gathering men to move south.
He had already gone to the Angle. I had no choice but to ready my steed and ride back and hope that I would not be too late.
I forced the horse to its limits only truly allowing my companion to rest when he could go no further. The journey was far longer than I would have liked and there were obstacles in the way but I finally made it but all too late, they had already gone.
I was unable to say farewell to them, I was too late.
Maybe Agacýra was right about this. Writing this has given my mind some rest as I have expressed myself onto this piece of parchment. Maybe I should take to the woman's idea and get my own book to write in, a journal.
Edengal, Losonn and Nethmî
Know that I miss you and I pray for your safe return. Edengal, keep your brothers safe.
Valar watch over them and bring them back home to me.
