Appendix B
The Story of Ithildin
It was a warm summer day many years ago when the elderly couple traveled along the Celebrant, in search of berries and fresh water to take back to their home. The sun shone brightly but the heat was not fierce; and a gentle breeze ruffled the patches of fir about them. The distant song of birds could be heard high above the sky. Squirrels raced across the small worn path carrying with them, twigs and acorns to be used in their busy lives. Trees stood tall and proud on either side of the stream, their green leaves fanning in the wind as if to greet the elderly couple.
About an hour passed since they had set out when the elderly couple spotted a patch of bright, red thimbleberries. Now, thimbleberries ripen in the summer, but they are most hard to find. They are sweet, if one knows how to pick the right kind. The people of Mindon Enedh had long treasured thimbleberries, especially the Elves, who had grown patches of them in the gardens of their homes in the days of old. But after the darkness of the Second Age, the thimbleberry shrubs withered and died and no more were they seen.
So the elderly couple was quite delighted when they found this small patch, blooming bright and red in the afternoon sun. As quickly as they could, without disturbing the wildlife around, they hastened to the shrubs, hoisting their small baskets of dried grass in delightful anticipation. They were quite curious though, as to where these berries came from and were quite sure something unnatural had occurred. Thimbleberries did not appear out of nowhere. Nevertheless, they stepped over rock and stone until they had made their way to the berries, and began the leisurely task of picking the juiciest and ripest.
What happened next they later recorded in the Book of Mindon, which my ancestors found in the study of Lord Elrond Halfelven in Rivendell many years ago. I have done my best to translate their entry concerning this day.
"Scarcely had we reached for the third berry, when the waters of the Celebrant stilled for a moment and we heard a most unusual sound: The soft laughter of a baby. Our nerves were quite scattered at this unusual sound and for a moment, we were sure that the laughter was coming from the berries! But we collected our wits and searched the shrubs and lo! we found, wrapped in a blanket of silver cloth, a baby. She was beautiful; her eyes were clear and bright and her skin was pale as the moon. She did not cry when we approached her, but instead held out her hands to us and laughed again and from that moment, our hearts were hers.
We picked her up carefully, and searched for a sign that might indicate who she belonged to but we found nothing. There was not a footprint on the bank and her silver blanket was just that: a silver blanket. It was strange, though, that she should lie right beneath the only patch of thimbleberries that had appeared for many years. I was quite tempted to believe there was some Elvish blood in this child; but it was long since I had seen Elves and I dismissed the thought. I held her while we continued picking berries and when we were done, we made our way home. I quite expected this child to cry of hunger at some point; she was not scrawny, but she was terribly thin and we had no idea how long she had lain underneath those thimbleberries. But she did not cry once and instead slept peacefully in my arms for the rest of the afternoon."
The Book of Mindon ends here, for there are no more entries after the one concerning the discovery of Ithildin. The elderly couple recorded no more; and Ithildin did not write in the Book, being content instead to record her days in Mindon in a small dark red book she fashioned herself. This book she took with her to Lothlórien, but forgot it there when she left. The book was found by Haldir who gave it to Galadriel, Lady of the Wood. Galadriel kept it safe until the Fire of Lothlórien, the first attack on the Golden Wood by the Dark Lord of Mordor, where sadly, the book was destroyed. And so, no more is known about Ithildin's past or the last days of the Mindon.