Dear Diary,
Well, that was painful in a way I had not pictured.
I shall not reproduce here the autopsy report, which is really only for Tûr anyway, since the body of my beloved husband-brother was witnessed by Tingruviel, Elvealin, Tindir, Estarfin, and Veryacano, and assisted by my twin star Norliriel. None of them should have had to see Daegond so.
I can say to you only, Diary, that there is clear evidence of betrayal by someone with a terrible grudge. The Hammerites want blood for blood. That is their specialty, not mine. I know only that I promised Themodir to look after his comrades, and his brother has fallen in a ghastly way. It is hard to describe this feeling.
On the morrow, we bury Daegond of Gondolin, next to Themodir as he had spoken of. His hröa must lie without his swan-badge, as even that was taken from him at the end.
I agreed to sing the west wind, to bring hope. Where is that hope? We feel broken, appalled, sundered. Yet we cannot long remain in such feelings, as justified as they are.
My brother deserved better. May he find in the halls of Mandos the peace that eluded him in this life. I know that he would shake me and enjoin me to quit my weeping.
Oh Diary, I think he knew that his end would shock his battle-hardened comrades, as did the poison death of my true love. It was not merely that he did not die in a bed.
Somewhere out there is a treacherous coward.
