Legolas Thranduilion, Lord of Dol Galenehtar, The Green Knight of Gondor, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen, No Longer Called "Legolas the Merry" but "Legolas the Inconsolable" (though it is early yet to give unto me that appellation), Ithilien

To Bandobras Took my Esquire, Traitor-Bane, My Loyal Friend and Beloved Companion, For Whom My Heart Longs, Crickhollow

My Dear Bandobras,

Well it has been many weeks since I last received word of you, O Little One; I have heard tell it is quite snowy and stormy in the Gap of Rohan impeding the Post, and my Lord Father did relate in his last missive the difficulties folk are having sending messages over the Misty Mountains – all the passes are blocked, he said, and even Baranil could not get through to Imladris.  And when that canny warrior is thwarted, O my Bandobras, it must be rough going indeed; in the many years I have known my Lord Father's Captain I have never seen him baffled by any impediment neither quick nor still.  So I shall assume you have yet to receive my letters, and I yours, O Bandobras; perhaps when the thaw comes you shall be surprised when Old Holbard delivers unto your house in Crickhollow a stack of letters from me, beginning in midwinter and following my exploits 'til spring.

But what shall you say to them then, my Little One?  Dull and eventless you shall no doubt find them; I am no longer busy – much to my dismay; how I should love to bury my regret in work! – and all my friends and visitors have quit me, so my halls are quiet now and patiently await spring and its attendant functions.  Did I say last year I desired to hide myself away and forswear banquets and feasts and meetings and councils?  No more!  Gladly would I welcome the hectic pace of last year, O Bandobras; at least then my days and nights were filled with tasks and duties and gatherings, and I could hide myself in them; now I preside over my small meals with heavy heart, and my courtiers watch me, wondering and worrying.  I know what they are thinking, my Little One; they are thinking I pine for my betrothed, and regret we shall not marry.  Well they may continue on in that belief; it is better than the truth at least, that I am relieved to be shed of her, and horrified by mine own admission.  And there are some trifling other things – messy, untidy, unresolved things that gnaw at me – I shall have to learn to live with them, as I cannot speak of them (fear not; it is not my secret but another's and my lips are locked upon it), and cannot reconcile them either; perhaps over time I shall become acclimated to this unsettled feeling, but for now it is quite uncomfortable.

I am all the more awaiting spring, my Bandobras, for not only shall it lift the grey cloud of winter that sags so heavily upon me; not only shall it bring its renewal of life and rebirth which for long ages has tugged at my soul; not only shall it herald a restoration of banquets and fêtes and assemblies, but it shall bring to me you!  How my heart has longed for you, my Little One; how dearly would I love to have you by my side!  With every feast we had, every gathering of children playing within my courtyards, with every fireside congress and late-night kitchen-raid, with every merry recounting of brave deeds and great tales, and every child that nestled in my lap to sleep, I but missed you the dearer; why when I came in last week from a boar-hunt, my hunting kit ripped and my leg bloodied by a stray tusk, I would rather have had you fussing over and scolding me than all the soothing unguents and respectful accolades I received for my wound.  (He was a grand boar too, O Little One, fat and combatant; I look forward to your rashers off him when you arrive and fix me my Second Breakfast!)  How you should have reprimanded me for my carelessness!  Though whether it would have been my leg or my clothing should have concerned you the most, who can say?

What shall I do with my betrothed's gift, with Goermeril her filly?  (I think I shall have you rename her, O Bandobras; "Red Roses" is no name for such a beast! What do you think is a suitable name for a young mare all silver-gray, with a white blaze and one white stocking?)  I had thought perhaps to give her to Tyarmayél who is chief amongst my stable-hands, for she is wise in the ways of beasts and all the kine love her; the poor little mare pines for her mistress, and though weaned is young yet, needing tender care and attention.  Perhaps I shall see to her myself – Piukka is a good steed but very self-sufficient; I might spare the time to spend with the filly.  After all it is mostly my doing she is desolate; I did give her unto a maid's care and that care was reft away, through no fault of her own.  Tyarmayél told me Laustairë spent a great deal of time with my gift to her, showering upon the filly gifts of sweet apples and tender caresses, though she assured me it was not spoilt by the attention, but rather made more affectionate than is usual for a beast of this type.  If Tyarmayél desires her I shall give it freely to her; however if it but adds to her work load I shall find some other receptor – Hísimë, perhaps; I have given to Fastred already a black yearling which he has named Fréaf, and I am sure Lady Éowyn would be delighted were her daughter to receive her own mount, for Hísimë is yet rather timid, not for a daughter of Gondor perhaps, but certainly by a Shieldmaiden's standards, and it would do the child some good to have a large beast to care for, and upon which to learn to ride.

It yet snows upon us; the sky is sullen and dark and the chill seems to seep into the very stonework of my tower – I am glad you shall not be here ere Spring for I would rather you saw my abode at its splendid best, with gold-leaf roofs casting back the rays of the sun, marble gleaming white as sea-foam, nestled in the fresh green limbs of the forest, covered in flowering ivy with fragrant herbs about its feet.  At the moment it seems more as a faery-tale castle in an old sad story, in which the Princess is under a terrible spell and the subjects beset by brooding horrors.  At least I am sure of this:  soon shall the thaw come to kiss the Princess awake, and the flowers shall again bloom, the birds sing, and the trees stir; it may not seem so to me now, with snow and ice everywhere I look, but I know in my heart spring shall come as it always has, despite heart-break, disappointment, and regret.  Yavanna after all has little regard for the feelings of such insignificant creatures as we, who crawl as ants across the surface of her gaming-board; rather she concerns herself with the greater things, the renewal of the earth, the bounty of the fields, the perseverance of the wild creatures.  So I shall hold to my breast this hope to warm me through this long terrible winter, that spring shall come, and with it not only bloom and green and sunshine, but mine own Esquire, Bandobras Took the Charitable, by whose efforts Long Bank was made safe and secure against winter's bitter chill.

Ah, now I am growing weary once more!  Perhaps I shall go down to the stables again, and seek me out Piukka for a ride in my forest; I might at least speak to the pines though they are sluggish yet.  Write to me when you receive this, my Bandobras, that I might know the Shire has not been buried in drifts but you are well.

How I miss you, and long for your coming!

Your Loving Master,

Legolas