April 4, 2947 T.A.
Today Wyn's life changed forever.
I've been in Gondor again for months, I'm sorry I haven't written to you. I spent several peaceful weeks with Legolas in Dale, but I haven't received a letter from him since then. It's been so busy in the Houses of Healing (springtime is baby season in Minas Tirith, apparently) and one thing led to another, and this journal found itself wedged into the back corner of my dresser.
But although it might have been forgotten about, I still think about you every day, my dear.
Now, as I was saying, Wyn has experienced a major upheaval. She is to be married! She told me with shining eyes this morning that one of the steward's guards has asked for her hand in marriage. I asked Wyn what he is like, and strangely enough, she hardly knows him. It is men's custom, I have learned, for a man to ask a woman's parents for her hand, rather than the woman herself. To Gondorians, love in marriage is not as important as mundane nonsense such as dowries and ties between families. Although I suppose I'm not one to judge: we would have surely been the oddest couple in Arda!
Still, I felt more than a bit discontented at the development, despite Wyn's enthusiasm. I am reminded once again of how young she is: 21, a child compared to you and I. I admit that some of this sadness was selfish. The wedding will be next month, and I will lose my next-door neighbour. Wyn will, I'm sure, have a child soon, and will give up her place in the Houses of Healing.
I know I'll still get to see her, but I can already tell that I'm still going to miss her.
Wish you were here,
Tauriel.