It is Iestor
Of the 3016th year of the Sun
In the Third Age of Middle-earth

The Sun has set, and as the sky fades the stars have kindled, marking the start of the first day of another year.^[1] For the Tawarwaith this will be a night of feasting and merry-making beneath the glittering sky, but ere the feast begins I have a brief Laegren rite to perform. For this is my first Iestor since I have come of age, and as is our custom I shall plant a ripe acorn in the dell beyond the green-shadowed grove in which we dwell.

This oak tree and I shall henceforth grow together, for we are both of the stuff of Earth; but while its doom is to reach ever for the sky and spread its branches wide, it shall for me be a token of remembrance that while its body grows until it ages unto death, my own shall not (though I am myself yet a sapling and my earth-stuff has some growing yet to do!) For lest I one day depart unto the Blessed Isle, my doom is for the fire of my spirit to grow until it consumes my weary body, whereafter it shall fade into naught but a memory. But though this seems a sadness it is indeed cause for mirth, for what else is there now but to delight in the world? The lives of Elves may be years upon years, but each day is yet a precious gift for never again shall it return; to waste even a single one would be folly!

Now this rite is but one of many customs of the Laegrim of yore that the Laegil brought with them from Lindon in the after-days of the ruin of Beleriand: for still do we forswear the hunting of birds and beasts that are our friends, and the eating of their flesh; and as of old, we dwell within the high branches of beech, elm and oak, and walk their boughs -- and the world -- unshod (for bare feet make no sound and give far firmer footholds) and the raiment in which we are clad is indeed the colour of leaves! In the changing of the seasons we rejoice, and the passing of the brief years of the Sun; and many are the songs that we sing in praise of the Rodyn, but above all we honour Ivann, Queen of Earth and Giver of Fruits, for she it was who brought forth the trees and plants with roots in the earth, and the beasts that move on four legs, and the singing birds.

But yet much has changed for our kindred since we came to live among the Tawarwaith. Aforetime in Lindon the Laegrim dwelt warily and were seldom seen, but now we live openly. And we foreswore going to open war after King Dân and a great many of our folk were slain in the First Battle of the war of Morgoth against the Elves of Beleriand, and they lived thereafter in peace and secrecy within their woods; but we have in the count of days thereafter joined with the Silvan Elves in the War of the Last Alliance and in the Battle of Five Armies, and there is, alas, rumour of more war to come in these later days from which we will not shirk should these rumours become truth. And in these conflicts we fared better, for the Sindar brought with them cunning-handed skills to fashion arms and armour of higher quality than that with which we had aforetimes clad ourselves (though not bows, for ours are still the finer!)

And no longer do we wander the greenwoods, lingering wheresoever the passing seasons might bring us, but now we dwell rather in a fixed abode: a green-shadowed glade beside the Forest River nigh the Halls of the Elvenking, where the folk of our clan have dwelt now for many long years. Our number is not great -- fewer than a hundred -- thus our needs are easily met, by our own hands or by sharing and trading with the Tawarwaith. In each home-tree are built tiered houses, joined by ladders of soft rope, or steps of carven wood, or the very boughs themselves; some with one wall, or two or three or four, oft curtained against wind, snow and rain, and yet others that are but a talan; some are roofed and others open to the sky. Woven mats lie upon the floors and as of old we hang hammocks in which to sleep -- under the stars in fair weather. We craft low tables but no chairs, and graven racks and shelves and burnished chests and coffers to safely hold our things.

 The Laegil of old also made no fire to betray their hiding places^[2], nor did they hew the wood of living trees; but now we value the gift of fire for comfort and for cooking and much else besides; and many are the things we craft and build from deadwood. But it would be a grievous deed for a Laegel to hew a tree for timber, for like birds and beasts, all trees are our friends and it is our will to protect and cherish them!

Thranduil son of Oropher is our king, and he is like his father and yet unlike. Like, for he is wise and benevolent and the protector of his people; and unlike, for while King Oropher sought to become as a Silvan Elf and return to the simple life natural to the elves in the quiet of the world, his son seems more proud of his Sindar blood (and his golden hair!) I was but a child of twelve autumns when first I met the King of the Woodland Realm, and he was proud and aloof and had little fondness for me! Nor did he much esteem the Nandor of Ossiriand, for he recalled the "Guest-elves" who fled Ossiriand for Arthórien after the First Battle with no goodwill, saying that they did not mingle happily with the Teleri of Doriath; the Laegrim who remained in the forests of Lindon he called craven! And we Laegil who dwell in Mirkwood, he deems naught but wild and ungentle barefoot tree-dwellers who have but lately welcomed fire. Once he told me that he abode me wandering his Halls only because of my desire to learn to read and write, while gleaning some little lore from Teithoron; thus did I earn his affection -- he said -- for he deemed it was my wish to be a Sinda! O! tra-la-la-lally, I do not think that shall be! Unless... the mighty Elvenking would not jest with a mere elf-child, would he?

Truth be told, it is now eight and thirty years since our meeting, and yet I still cannot read the king's heart. Perhaps it is true that we are more rude and rustic than his Sindar subjects, but oft I deem he speaks thus simply to affront me for his words seem to me to miss the mark. For when Oropher came among us, he and his Iathrim took names of Silvan form and style; indeed Thranduil Elvenking named his own son Legolas, which like my own is founded on the bygone Nandorin word laeg but in the Silvan form; to my mind he would instead have used the Sindarin word calen if he is so proud? But yet his own name is Sindarin, for tharan is not a Silvan word. Something is amiss with the Elvenking, I am sure of it!

Nevertheless, though I asked him once about the "Guest Elves", no word of the king's goading have I ever told to Echeleb, my father's father, for always did he think my pastimes strange and I feared he might forbid them! For he is proud of our Laegrim line, and he is as firm in his ways as a sturdy and ancient oak is rooted in the earth. Thus would he not deign to wed Delloril, my father's mother -- even though they had given the silver rings of betrothal one to another in Lindon -- lest the wars of Beleriand overtake the peaceful Laegil and sunder him from her; only upon their coming to Eryn Galen did he appoint the day of their wedding feast. (But Tawardil and Reneth, parents of my mother, were wed on the banks of the Legolin ere the War of Wrath ended, despite the peril of Morgoth!) Likewise was it the custom of the Laegrim for a father's father to gift the firstborn child of his child with their first bow, and so he gave to Amdiran my departed brother (may his spirit linger but briefly in the Halls of Awaiting!) Cúlalf, alike in name to the bow he fashioned for me -- though I am but second born -- which Amdiran bore to his doom in the Battle of Five Armies. And he cares not for Thranduil, for aforetime the Laegrim had no king to rule over them and were free, and so he thought to be when they removed hither ere the Sindar came to Eryn Galen.

But Legolas son of Thranduil is unlike his father. For all Thranduil's disdain of the Laegil of his Woodland Realm (feigned or no!) Legolas is truly fond of us and delights in learning our woodcraft. Indeed when it is his duty to captain the guards of the Halls of the Elvenking, oft does he choose folk from our kin for his company. He is merry and gay (but stern when needs must, as befits the son of a king) and his skill with a bow is outmatched only by that of Echeleb. His mind is keen and he too can read and write, even the Tengwar! Indeed, when I was younger he oft, while visiting Echelb on matters of safeguarding the Wood-elves of Mirkwood, lent me his aid while I toiled over the Angerthas Daeron, sitting with me on the matted floor of my home like my elf-child friend, not the prince of our people!  And he prefers the forest over the halls of his father graven from stone, wherein the Sindar nobles are commonly found. For though he is of Sindar blood, in his heart he is Silvan; an Elf who would be loved by all if he were king!

But the stars are now bright and I have tarried overlong; the time has come for me to meet my merry acorn. Wine and song await!

[1] "A ‘day’ of the sun [the Eldar] called ré and reckoned from sunset to sunset."

- The Lord of the Rings, 'Appendix D'

[2] "In a valley among the foothills of the mountains, below the springs of Thalos, [Finrod Felagund] saw lights in the evening, and far off he heard the sound of song. At this he wondered much, for the Green-elves of that land lit no fires, nor did they sing by night."

- The Silmarillion, 'Of the Coming of Men into the West'

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