June 30, 2944 T.A.
Today there was little healing to be done, and Wyn asked me to eat lunch with her outside the walls of the city. I seldom visit the lowest level of Minas Tirith, let alone venture outside the gates, but it was an opportunity to spend time with a friend, so I accepted.
After lunch, we sat together on the plains and talked quietly for awhile. There is something about the sun and the grass and the breeze in one's hair that makes one think very deeply about life, doesn't it? It can be cheering at times, but whenever I think too much, I start to get sad, so I try not to get in touch with nature too much anymore.
But the fresh air had a similar effect on Wyn. I know this because she asked me, "Tauriel, I mean no ill intent by asking this, but why do you always look so forlorn?"
I had been waiting for this question; I knew it was coming. The other healers stay away from me. I suppose they can tell a lost cause when they see it; and I was glad to be free from prying questions. But Wyn is different. In that moment I felt open and free, and I replied with a question of my own. "Have you ever heard of the Lonely Mountain?" I asked her.
"Yes," she said, "where there was a dragon slain a few years back?"
"The same," I said.
She looked at me strangely. "Tauriel… were you there?"
"I was." I sighed and looked away. "And in the battle that followed, I lost someone I loved very much."
Wyn's gray-blue eyes filled with concern. She didn't say anything; but she moved closer to me and put her arm around me. And for the first time in a long, long time, I feel as though I am beginning to heal.
Wish you were here,
Tauriel.