Dear Brother,
I hope this letter finds you and Mother well. You will be happy to know that I have arrived in the lands of Eriador, or as is now once again known as the Kingdom of Arnor. It has been a tiring trip, through Arnórien, across through Rohan then up through Dunland into Enedwaith. I would have spent more time in these lands, though Arnórien and Rohan especially is well known to us in Gondor, and from what few locals I did interact with in Dunland chose to keep to themselves, focusing on rebuilding what was lost during recent conflicts. Though its evil presence gone, and the lands reclaimed by the Ents, the tower of Orthanc, built by our ancestors, still looms over the Gap of Rohan. It sits there as an empty husk, a reminder of the darkness that engulfed the region.
But to the present, I write this letter to you in the local tavern in of Mossward, a sleepy little town along the Old South Road. From what I gather, the settlement is largely inhabited by farmers and retired adventurers, and protected by something resembling a militia. The barman said that bandit attacks are uncommon, and if there are its never anything well-coordinated.
Anyway, my journey continues to take me up the Old South Road. Judging by the maps I copied from the Houses of Lore, I am deep within Cardolan lands. There is a large ruin along the road, the great city of Tharbad. The locals do not seem to know much about the place, other than the numerous sightings of orcs among its walls and streets. One patron here advised that a Ranger may know more. As you know, since King Elessar ascended the throne, most of the Rangers migrated south. However, a few have appeared to have remained, probably to act as eyes and ears for their Chief. I shall seek one out before venturing forth, I could use with the guidance.
Besides the ruins, there are many opportunities to improve our understanding of Eriador and her people. I have been advised to travel to Bree, further north, whenever possible, for they have several tomes kept in the ‘Scholar’s Stair’ as they call it. Bree might be a good place to make my residence, given its central location in these lands.
You may have noticed my handwriting has improved since last I saw you. Keeping a journal, what old man Feriedir suggested, was the answer. I’ve kept log of every day since I left the walls of the White City, and looking back at my earlier entries I can see huge improvements, though there is still much to do. It is not easy, adjusting to using one’s main hand. I have not found anyone on the road to spar with, and thankfully I have not needed to defend myself thus far. Still, between you and me, if I cannot effectively hold my sword to defend someone, can I even call myself a Knight of Gondor?
I should not let these thoughts plague my mind; though in truth I have not had anyone to share them with. Maethoriel has heard it before, though sadly she cannot give me advice in return. I wish to make allies here, people who would be willing to help an outsider on his journey.
I continue along the road at first light, maybe find myself a Ranger guide along the way. You shall hear from me soon, depending how long this letter will take to reach you. I’ll tell you more once I make it to Bree, where I should have a more permanent residence.
Send all my best to Mother and Faervelwen, when you see them.
No aer i eneth Helcharon. Padrad mi i calad.
(Hallowed be the name Helcharon. Walk in the light.)
Your brother, Thandanar, on the fifteenth day of Narbeleth in the 3019th year of the Third Age
