The following is a loose page from a larger journal, belonging to Ren, describing his experiences with the Avorrim, just over a week before the blockade of Dol Amroth by the Heirs of Castamir.
On the 1st of March, TA 3019
I had traveled to Dol Amroth, delivering an odd shipment from Ost Arndí—three large trunks of old books. Allegedly they were of great import to someone at the Library of Saphadzîr; a delivery that apparently could not be trusted to a less elusive ship captain. The pay was well enough such that I did not ask too many questions.
To say that the black sails of the Rumratel had caused alarm would be an understatement. I was nearly beset by arrows at the Sea Gate—the signal I flew had gotten twisted in the wind, I was nearly mistaken for a Corsair—which, in honesty, wouldn't have been entirely untrue.
My contact at Dol Amroth—an elf—sent two of the three trunks to the library. He then stated that my pay would be doubled if I were to deliver the third chest to a place up the shore, towards the ruins of Edhellond. I knew the Corsairs were already seeking to form a foothold in those old ruins—a rumor I heard on the wind—so naturally I was suspicious.
I had known this contact for years. To my relief, I did not regret choosing to act on trust instead of reason.
My contact and I traveled by horse to a secluded and somewhat hidden cave, where elves known as the Avorrim had taken refuge. Their songs echoing through the caverns were not unpleasant, but an emotion of mournful longing was clear, even to a dullard like me. The Avorrim did not live in squalor as one would think to expect from cave-dwelling strangers, but instead they had many of the comforts that elves are often known for. The Avorrim had beautiful structures built into the stone, greenery, pearly lights strewn about on strings, and carved stone quays. To think so much quiet charm could be packed into such a small settlement.
My contact told me of the Avorrim; of their leader, Dorthaneth; of her master, the legendary Círdan; of their shared desire to protect and restore Edhellond. I learned that should the Grey Havens to the northeast fall, Edhellond may be the only place by which elves may depart for the Undying Lands. It is all very foreign to me, but I can't help but pity their cause. I thought it peculiar that the fallback for the Grey Havens was already—for a great time—in ruin. Someday soon, perhaps within ten days if the rumors were to be believed, Edhellond would come to be infested with Corsairs. I told my contact what little I knew of the coming invasion, which he shared with the Avorrim.
I never asked what use the third trunk of books was to the Avorrim, or why such a trivial task was worth doubling the pay. I stayed the night there and partook in the hospitality of the elves. I departed just before dawn, returning to Dol Amroth and my ship.
The mooring toll in Dol Amroth was—and remains—a greater robbery than any Corsair could impose. I am beginning to suspect that the Swan-knights hold no love for me or my ship in their wharf. They even took the time to count out my payment in front of me, as if I'd counterfeit them, right there at the pier! Is there not a war they should be fighting?
Ren, son of Ranûr
