I have not talked much about my time in Angband, and I will not do so now. But it is enough to say that it left its mark upon me. They tried to break me, in spirit and form, and whilst they failed in the previous, they were starting to succeed in the latter. I endured the crack of the whip, the weight of the carrying pole on my back and the confined space that was my cell for near to five years. My back ached and did so for a long while after my escape from the Iron Prison. I walked slightly bent, my head and body tilting forward. I could scarcely recognise my own reflection when I returned home. Like some mutilated creature I walked our halls in Nan Elmoth. I could hardly blame the Noldor for putting me in chains the moment they found me like this. Lesser eyes would have seen me pierced with arrows the moment I came into view.
The comfort of home amended my shape to some extent, but ever did I walk with my head slightly bent, as if the hand of Morgoth pushed it forward. I looked much like Eöl, though his stooped stature came by way of his tedious smithing, rather than mutilation. I never liked it, and ever sought to remedy my affliction. But we did not possess the healing powers of Aman, and the famed cordial of Miruvor could not cure my blight either, the Valar know I tried. It was only years later that I learned of a medicine unlike any other, one of this world, used by the Enyd or Onodrim to nourish their roots. Though the old world knew many forests where these tree-shepherds walked in great number, the third age, with its vast open plains, proved a challenge to find any who might be willing to share their brew.
Indeed, I scoured the forests of Middle Earth for many years on end, trying to find these mysterious and potent waters of the ents. I came closest to it in Fangorn Forest, which was said to be the home of "walking trees" by the Edain of Calenardhon. But my search was in vain, for the trees were no longer hospitable in their dealings with elves, or perhaps not with one such as I, and I was left in the dark about this elixir for the remainder of the third age. It was only recently, that a young elf maiden draped in white with golden hair appeared before me as if called out of a dream. Her very presence worked soothing, as an autumn rain after a very long summer. It was she who travelled with me to Nan Curunir, north of the river Isen, and gave me the means to heal.
A beautiful garden was growing there now, and though I disliked looking at it under the the light of the sun, I found it immensely peaceful at night and I stayed there for a fortnight in company of the golden-haired lady. Meanwhile, I set my eyes upon ents working to grow new trees, bearing flowers more splendid than anything I had seen in a long time. And to my surprise they were nourishing these young plants with bowls of water which I suspected to be the mysterious Ent-draught. A tree-shepherd with roots for a beard, guardian of Nan Curunir, offered me leave to drink deep of the Waters of Wellinghall - the name he gave to the Ent-draught. I put my lips to the wooden bowl I was offered and in the blink of an eye, the fresh water came over me like memories of forests long ago and for a brief second I saw Nan Elmoth before my waking eyes, as if the world was young again. And so it happened that I was remedied, for the Ent-draught straightened my back and infused it with new life as if it was the trunk of a tree itself. But of all the ills remedied that day, it was my aching heart which saw the greatest change of all, for I bore a great love for this golden-haired lady in her drapes of white, and I will continue to do so till the world turns grey.
