Nardanë Daughter of Parímoëar, of Lindon

To Kalamiril Daughter of Menelúin of Mithlond, my Beloved Friend,

Greetings.

What wonders in Arda, dearest Kalamiril, have been displayed before us this journey!  Should our ultimate goal be brought to naught still shall I praise Ulmo for his bounty, for such have been the riches of his endowments we shall be all the more blessed by this experience.

I am sure, dear Kalamiril, you weary of my accolades upon this point, but surely I may not desist, for such is my delight in new knowledge I scarce may withhold admiration on this but revel once more in such enchantment as I find in this voyage – though, may I add, our charge Laustairë is but little inclined to so believe, and pines instead for her homeland, as all her age are wont to do, though when they are at harbor they instead complain that there are no new vistas for them to explore.  How difficult is this time of development, Kalamiril!  Better would it have been to have waited a century or more ere beginning such a quest, for indeed I do not see that our dear young one is quite up to the challenge.  She does not like the type of fish we are constrained to eat – she does not like the taste of the water, it is not as fine as we had in Mithlond – she misses her friends – she misses her room, the cabin aboard is too cramped – she mopes and languishes and displays her charms for the seamen to admire, draping herself across the side in an excess of dreaminess and misery designed to draw the eye of every comely male on board.  Do I seem peevish to you, Kalamiril?  It is weariness only – I shall be glad indeed when we arrive in Ithilien, and I might hand our charge over to the ladies of Prince Legolas' court for a time, and rest in quiet, away from the raptures and sorrows of her epoch.  How I wish you were here!  You are more patient than I, Kalamiril, and would speak gently to her as a mother would, whereas I am curt with her and drive her all the further from rational deportment.

When last I wrote to you, O my friend, we had stopped for water and sundry other supplies at Drúwaith Iaur, before our passage about the peninsula at Ras Morthil, called here Andrast, to bolster our ship ere we traveled to Anfalas, and to harbor at Dol Amroth.  Well we arrived at Dol Amroth (indeed we did weigh anchor there two nights ago), and I may tell you, dear Kalamiril, it wants not in truth from its accolades, and the Prince himself, Imrahil, a Man of great lineage, is all one would hope for in a Lord of Men, being doughty and wise and gracious and kind, and his people reflect this, in themselves showing hospitality and generosity to even those of so far-off a land as Lindon, and their knowledge of our heritage and doings behooves them quite.  And in Langstrand, the land between the southern Ered Nimrais and the Bay of Belfalas, did we find a people hardy and merry, giving to us of their harvest, the fruit of the vine and the husk of the stalk, so that we are nourished and satisfied and our journey halts not in vain, though the blight which nearly caused these folk to perish is but a year past.

Here we have met one of the chief architects of the Treaty, namely Cirien of Langstrand, called the Yellow Knight (his sigil is a warbler upon a blue background) and counted a very wise Man; he is tall and thin, but very strong I deem, for it is said his prowess in battle is fearsome, yet one would think not were one only to look upon his countenance, which is gentle and a little sad.  He lives in a great castle in Edhellond, his seat of power in Langstrand, and his retainers did say unto me he has left his wife, a lady of noble birth but afflicted with some debilitating sickness, in the care of his seneschal and two esquires for the duration of his journey and the Treaty deliberations.  So perhaps that is why his face seems to me to be sad, for had he children I am sure he would have consigned her to their care, yet it seems to me the illness has caused her to be barren, or for some other reason unknown to me they have been unable to produce heirs; that indeed would cause so great and rich a man to feel grief.

Yet I like him well, he is sober and studious and though not so easy to speak to (Laustairë finds him "cold," she said, but listens eagerly to his tales, for she recognizes in him a shrewd and judicious person, well worth her attention) he is a fount of useful information, not only of the Treaty that Mithlinálwi goes to debate in Ithilien, but also of the surrounding lands, its flora and fauna, and the various knights, lords, vassals and minor kings that live therein.  Laustairë and I, of course, are eager to hear him speak of Legolas Thranduilion, as Lord Círdan did inform me there are grave political ramifications corollary to this potential union (both the Treaty and the marriage), and Laustairë is naturally quite interested to learn what she can of her impending suitor.  From what Lord Cirien has told us he may be a formidable opponent indeed, for it seems to me he hides a cunning and ambitious temperament behind a blithe and artless façade.  He is generous, Lord Cirien said, and eager to right wrongs, to protect the innocent and succor the weak, yet he displays an unswerving determination to increase his demesne, drawing in the strength of Elves from all lands and enlarging his production of foodstuffs (as you know primarily olive oil and wine, though dried herbs are becoming noteworthy as well) and the construction of many fine buildings, including his tower, which Lord Cirien said is a marvel of manufacture, blending Dwarvish skill and Elven beauty, and pierces through the forest canopy of Dol Galenehtar like "a lance tipped with a  golden coronel," the meaning of which I had need to ask of him; it is apparently a term used in jousting, a popular sport for the nobility in Gondor, and the occupation wherein Lord Cirien made acquaintance with Prince Legolas.  Anyway Laustairë's present interest lies more with Prince Legolas' form itself, and not with his avarice or tenacity, which concerns me some; she dwells upon the descriptions she has from Lord Cirien and his friend who has only recently joined us, Lord Araval, a fat jolly man with a loud laugh and a whimsical way of speech whom I like very much.  Lord Araval did tell us, only last night after a magnificent dinner upon the mouth of the river Serni where we have encamped, that maids pine and sigh as Prince Legolas passes, watching as he quits a room or rides through a town, and Araval did describe him thus:  Tall, with fair hair and grey eyes, slender and strong as whipcord, with a face fine of feature and pale of skin.  For myself this depiction interests me not, for it seems not to me the sort of form that would attract, but Laustairë with all the enthusiasm of youth has embraced this portrait wholeheartedly, and has prepared herself, so she did tell me this eve, to be smitten utterly – and yes, dear Kalamiril, I did laugh!  And yes also, she did become petulant and brooding, saying I disdained her tastes, and I was constrained to apologize once again.

Apparently there shall be one of these "jousts" after the Mereth en'Ehtelé, which Lords Cirien and Araval are anxious to attend; both have entered the list of lords, knights, and sundry other nobles competing and anticipate with great pleasure trying their skill against Prince Legolas and the other contestants.   Laustairë does not seem much interested in the joust itself but in the pageantry involved, and in the feast afterwards, which, Lord Araval has informed us, is rumored to be a festival of unsurpassed proportion, replete with food and drink and music and dancing, to which all neighboring folk are invited (this seems passing strange to me, that the Mereth en'Ehtelé should be so sullied by mortal blood, but evidently this is Prince Legolas' custom, to so blend Eldar and Edain together in harmony; it shall be fascinating to see how he so unifies the two), and opulence of dress and jewel is displayed for all to see and admire; we have heard, O my friend, that the Silvan Elves of Taur e-Ndaedelos were both ecumenical and lavish in their hospitality during such fêtes, and it appears, from Lord Araval's description, that rumor did not deceive us.

What more interests me in Prince Legolas than his appearance are the tales told of his prowess and ferocity in battle; there was treason some time ago, shortly after King Elessar came to rule, in which the prince and Lords Cirien and Araval, and sundry others, became entangled; we have been hearing the tale of it, from both Prince Imrahil and Lord Cirien, who were present at two fronts of the great battle, and Lord Cirien's account is fantastic, but vouched for by Lord Araval, so that I am compelled to believe them both; apparently Prince Legolas while engaged in contest at a tournament did pursue diverse men-at-arms and soldiers of the traitor, a Lord Eradan, and slay many in a blood-wrath of magnificent and nearly unbelievable proportions, bringing at last the miscreant to justice and releasing from captivity an entire fiefdom of women and children laid waste by the depredations of the enemy.  Should this indeed be true (and I have as yet no reason to doubt it) I am all the more concerned that our Laustairë has no interest in his prowess with sword and spear, or in the part he played in the Ring War, or in the proportions of his demesne and the production of his crops – he is indeed a formidable suitor, and I am not confident our charge, charming as she is, has the wherewithal to attract such a mate.  He seems to me to be an Elf more concerned with the workings of a kingdom, the machinations of politics, the building up of empires, than lovemaking and poetic sentiments, two things Laustairë shall insist upon should his eye be turned to her.  In short my friend, I foresee a rocky path before us, and it is a hopeful person indeed who sees not the impediments laid down betwixt these two.  But our Lord has charged me with this, that the union be made to cement the alliance between our peoples; if Laustairë draws him not perchance I might appeal to his political sentiments, which from what I have heard appear to be myriad.

Well, dear Kalamiril, I shall quit you here, for one of the King's messengers is collecting what he calls "post" to be delivered north and west of us – a marvelous system of stops for couriers, I have heard, that expedites communication between far lands.  I shall write to you anon, when we have traveled some ways up the River to Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, where we shall meet Laustairë's "beautiful prince," as she has begun to call him – Ilúvatar prevent me from laughing again, lest she shun me wholly!  Write to me, I beg of you, my friend, for I miss you greatly, and know it shall be fully a year or more ere we meet.

In sorrow we are so sundered, yet in hope we shall be united,

Nardanë