Aemrandir

It has been a long time since I have unearthed this diary from its shelter, the very shelter I left it in before I departed from Bree over a year ago. I admit, I find myself surprised it is still here. When I left, I did not expect to return, and as such I did not put much effort into hiding this journal. Why, I'm not quite sure. I was not at my most calm at the time. Perhaps I wished for some semblance of... immortality? Would that be the correct word? It seems foolish writing that sentence down with my elvish hand, but... perhaps that's what is was.

When Time is to Freeze...

When all is silent, and time is to freeze,

And all life to fade to naught but a hush,

Will I still feel the cool winter breeze?



The winds are to wheeze,

And cough free upon broken lands nothing in their rush,

When all is silent, and time is to freeze.



When deathly and grey become fair seas,

With life, no longer aflush,

Will I still feel the cool winter breeze?

Aemrandir stood on a branch, one of many forming the shadowy canopy that blotted out the sky, the thick, gnarled beam of wood not relenting to his weight in the slightest. He was a few metres above the ground, high enough to examine his surroundings and to avoid the reach of the night-time predators that prowled throughout the undergrowth. But his gaze was not searching around himself, nor was he worried of the dark, twisted creatures patrolling their gloomy territories. At least not for himself.