Chapter Text
Diary of a Mirkwood Elf
Should you find this diary in the hands of a still-warm corpse, please stop and follow the trail to my heart and save them from our attackers
July 2618
A traveler ensnared by the spiders gifted me this beautiful leather bound book as a thank you for freeing him before he inevitably became dinner. The pages are empty and ready for whatever I might write or draw inside. He says it’s called “a journal for a man, and a diary for a woman.” Strange that the author's gender dictates the name.
The point of the journal is to write the events of my life. “Celebrations, parties, and nights to remember, along with days of great sorrow. Write as if to inform another of the life you live in their absence.”
The traveler himself writes to his deceased wife about their only son and the man he has grown to be. I suppose I shall do something similar.
Dear Adar,
Many centuries have passed since you died in the battle the same we lost the queen to. I’m an adult, though last you saw me I barely passed your hip. Emya says I look like you. My blond hair is yours- my green eyes as well. I’ve mastered the bow and now carry yours in honor. Honestly, though, I favor the dagger and close combat. There is no need for weapons mastery in this time, though, for we are at peace. We sleep without fear and there has been no death in many years, not since the last battle. It is a perfect time to rase children, yet there are none.
I am older now than you were when you died.