The coming of Autumn brings with it a great amount of leisure time for myself. The splendor of this season holds my absolute favor, far beyond all others, save maybe Spring when the warm winds return.With this leisure time I have been able to pour over my many memories of the past, something that I have neglected to do for quite a while, ever since making my northward journey.
Even thinking of my travel to Eriador brings back memories that seem to be quite old, despite my flight from Belfalas having taken place only five winters ago, a short time even by the reckoning of Men.
I have spent much time with these northern Men, who make up a considerable population of the Eglain. They are rough folk, however behind their tired eyes is a fiery spirit that is admirable, and one that I have not seen anywhere in the south, where the Gondorians pride themselves on their heritage, and the Haradrim spite them for it. The simplicity of the Eglains' harsh lives is admirable, and I find that I am oddly attracted to the weather-beaten hut within a long forgotten ruin as opposed to the great stone complexes of the south. These Eglain are kind to me, and I to them. Through the past five years we have had grand feasts with our meager rations, played simple songs on poorly tuned instruments, hunted goblins and other hideous folk who have been appearing from up the Greenway, and mourned together at the death of their own. I like to think myself as one of them, as an Eglan, and I suspect them to think the same of me. Never before have I felt this kind of connection with another one of the Free Peoples, save maybe when I was among my own kind in the Eryn Galen, many centuries ago.
The earliest memory that I have of the race of Men was back in my youth, in my earliest years, after I aged to be fit enough for a long travel. An expedition consisting of myself and about two hundred other Elves of the Eryn Galen was sent eastward into the region of Rhûn. I do not remember our reason for doing so, as it was probably of little importance to me at the time, for as a youth I was only concerned with the prospect of seeing what lay beyond the Eryn Galen.
We followed the Celduin southwards on mighty ships that were crafted for our voyage. They were powerful boats with imposing hulls, and required many Elves to row it. They were nothing compared to the ships that the Men and Elves of Gondor craft, however by the standards of the Elves of the Eryn Galen they were indeed splendid vessels.
Our plan was to send the vessels down the Celduin until we came to Rhûn, where the realm of Dorwinion acts as its doorwarden. I believe it was for a diplomatic purpose of some sorts, as we have had contact with the Elves and Men of Dorwinion since the early days of the Woodland Realm. My father came with me on this journey, and I remember how he would collect leaves from the strange and foreign trees that we encountered along the way, ones that were unknown in the Eryn Galen. We would stop every few days to hunt and to stretch our legs, for the creaking of the boats would make us weary after too much time in them passed. The lands became grassy with bountiful hills, and I remember seeing strong oxen roaming about on the banks of the river.
What came to pass within Dorwinion is for another entry, a much longer one that would do it the justice that it deserves, as what came to pass there is what gave me my second name, Gwindulin, a derivative title of that realm. I should like to return to it some time, however the politics of the east and south prevent me from journeying there. Such is the reason why I left my Elvish and human friends in Gondor, Balfalas, and Haradwaith.
