PEOPLE OF THE NORTHERN LANDS

Dear Arwing,



How quickly the days pass! I haven't written for so long, nearly three and a half weeks.



Greetings from Lake Evendim! We are staying here in your father's house. It is quite lovely, and the lake is splendid.



Oh, is that where they were, in Bree? Sometimes I have little patience for slackers, though I was one myself for the entire trip. When we arrived on the borders of Buckland the hobbits told us to continue on north to Lake Evendim, since they had been told the king and the steward would be waiting there for us. It turns out we arrived ahead of them and knew not where they were. Two days later they showed up. So who knows.



We are not allowed to enter the Shire, for it is only to be inhabited by the Hobbits, as they call themselves. But we see plenty of the little folk, I'll tell you! The other day the Tooks came with the Brandybucks to visit. They had a glorious time talking and laughing with your father. Thain Peregrin is such a fellow, I quite like him. Master Meriadoc and his wife, Estella, make a pair, they are so jolly and kind, and yet more serious than their good friends, the Tooks. I find the Hobbits to be very amusing, but then.if you know me I find much amusing.



Boromir goes often with our father to look around the countryside. They sometimes take their horses, sometimes only their legs. Did that sound strange?



I have seen the Shire very close. Today the Mayor took me and King Elessar and Huinlas to look over the land. Such a gentle hobbit, the mayor. He gave me a copy of a poem given to him by his friend, Mr. Baggins, called "The Call of the Moor." It makes me sad to think how the Mayor went all the way to the Black Land with Mr. Baggins, and that Mr. Baggins had to afterwards leave and take the ship into the West. How sad. Oh yes. Anyway. The Shire is a very pretty land, gentle rolling hills with soft green grass blowing in the fresh, gentle gusts of wind. Ah. Oh dear, there I go again! Save me from my day dreams!



I met a very pretty hobbit day before yesterday, named Elanor. She is a year older than Barahir. Fancy that! She doesn't seem it at all. Rather she is more like me. Silly, funny, amusing. Did I say amusing again?



Gracious, I am absent minded in this letter.



I've been so tired of late. I sleep all night now and barely hear Huinlas singing any more. This makes me sad. I long to hear his voice in song. You would too if once you had heard it.



Tired, I must close soon.



~Silwen

PS Here is the poem the Mayor Gardner gave to me.

The Call of the Moor

I see a moor

Across the golden sea

And hear it calling,

Calling for me.

I see the waves

Splashing against the hull;

How they are chasing,

Chasing the gull!

I see the sky,

A globe of perfect blue;

There clouds are asking,

Asking of you.

I see your face

So full of streaming tears;

How it is clouding,

Clouding with fears.

Your friendship, Sam,

Embraces time and space;

It e'er is giving,

Giving me grace.

I feel my pain,

The never ending ache;

I leave it dying,

Dying in wake.

I sense freedom

Ahead on younder shore;

Its wind is warming,

Warming the moor.

I see a moor

And hear it calling me;

So I am crossing,

Crossing the sea.

(by Vané Alasse)