Of My Experience With the Coming Of Men and the Shadow Over Beleriand

 Deary Diary,

It is I, Dûriel, once again. Much has happened since my prior journal entry; Life in Beleriand had been peaceful and prosperous, yet under the rule of the son of  Lenwë, Denethor, many of our kin set forth to the lands of the North. And in the times following, the Trees of Valinor had been destroyed, leaving all of Arda in a time of grieving and frightening even my own self, despite the fact I never beheld their light. Soon after, Normal and Illuin were born, creating a blanket of cyclical light over the lands. Even under the new shine of light and shimmer of stars, fear still filled my being, as Morgoth wandered free. Still, I carried out my daily tasks, creating garments for my fellow Elves and studying the ways of nature evermore. And life continued on like this, that was, until the arrival of Men in my home land. These people were extremely foreign to us elves, measuring heights shorter than any of our kind and bearing dark hair and eyes. Aside from these differences, we looked very much alike, our faces and bodies being the same, save for our ears.

And seeing them, curiosity overcame my fear, and I sought to befriend one of these men, to learn more about their kindred. My wish was soon fulfilled, as a man named Ryman and a woman named Camilla came to be some of my dearest friends. In my first days with them, I bombarded them with inquiries, and eventually came to learn about the concept of permanent death. This was foreign to me, as elves had never encountered a “forever” death. The more I learned about this topic, I developed an irrational fear of it, even though I would never be affected, my friends would one day be doomed to disappear from the beautiful lands of Arda forever, and that frightened me more than anything. Another thing I noticed pertaining to my human friends, they aged much faster than an elf, and that same concept of death weighed heavy on my mind as I observed their wrinkles form and movements slow. The lives of men appear to be so bleak, yet they are still filled with wonder at everything they see, and their desire to live full lives burns bright within each one I meet.

In other words, I have recently noticed a dark, unsettling shadow looming over Beleriand. Many of the elves say Morgoth is back, that our time of peace has once again come to an end, and a large part of my being believes their words. I have been hearing tales of Orcs roaming beyond the north, and the idea that I might encounter one is terrifying. Furthermore, rumors of spies and betrayal have plagued the elves of Beleriand, and these warnings have reached my ears and my soul, sending me into a deeply paranoid state. Every person that wanders into my home land, I perceive with caution. I loathe this feeling, and I wish greatly to return to my life before this horrendous mood. Perhaps if there is an opportunity for me to fight this overbearing evil, I will take it, for it may be my only way to take control of my emotions once again.

Signed,

Dûriel

P.S. I forgot to mention, after the arrival of Men, I began creating clothes for them as well. It seems to be the only comforting thing in this time of somber uncertainty.