Eglanel

And the seamen saw an Elf with golden manes, reaching down to the end of his spine. His voice was fair and virtuous, pure and unstained. 

Time to open the journal and write, as there is things that should be written down to never be forgotten. In years from now I might just open this journal, read and remember the happy times I am now currently in. It has been many dawns and many sunsets filled with contemplation and dreams of the Sea. I know I am to sail, but when? I have found myself to think less of it, the longing has subsided, for what reason is yet unclear to me, although, it is in deed happy times to live in at present.

As soon as Nimlith entered the room, Eglanel could see by her grave expression that his hope had been unfounded. He tensed, waiting for the healer to speak.
"I am sorry. I bring no good news."
"Tell me."
Nimlith nodded, looked down.
"I examined your sister, her scars... they speak of evil things and corruption. Things I cannot name, down in the fires of Khazad-Dûm..."
She spoke on lowly, aware to be the bearer of bad news.

Daylight slowly filtered in through the drapes of Elrond's house. The elf, still asleep in the wide bed of the guest room, mumbled something and pulled the blanket over her head, unwilling to wake up.
Suddenly the sound of a startled bird outside made her listen up. She opened her eyes wide in shock. "Oh no... Nemben..."