cesistya

Dearest Family,

It has been one week since my last letter, and my heart feels the urge to contact you again.

I have been kept quite safe and well within Fangorn Forest. The trees here do not allow foul things into these woods, though they themselves can be rather grumpy. I wish I could understand why. They spoke of the great woods of the First Age, which you, Mother, spoke of often, and how they have since dwindled. The cause seems clear, yet, I know but do not understand. I do, however, feel their sadness.

Dearest Family,

Fangorn has offered me solace on this, only the 2nd night of my Journey. I had anticipated sleeping in the wilderland between the sweet Nimrodel and the distant Limlight, however, my fears would not allow my feet to tarry, and I hurried on through the moonlit night into the Forest. I write to you in a high branch of a lovely oak, who has kindly allowed me respite for the night. Never have I been so frightened. My heart still pounds in my chest from my flight.

The following is a small scroll newly placed upon the Shelves of the Scholar's Stair. The Author you may not have heard of as anyone staying in Bree-town at this time, though the name is clearly Elvish. The hand-writing is neat with a quill-pen on parchment.

On the Calendar of the Elves
~ And ~
What Might be Considered to Improve It