I wait. I wait constantly. A day seems to me like a year. I am locked away in fair Gondolin, the Hidden City. No one ever comes, and no one ever leaves.
Morgoth watches for us. He knows we are here, but he knows not where. We feel his eyes watching for us, and we can see his servants from afar, searching for our city.
Maeglin haunts my steps. I despise him, for he is evil, as his father was. He never leaves me in peace, but looks upon me with lustful eyes and torments my every moment.
I have told Turgon my father, but Maeglin cares nothing for the disapproval of others. It has not helped.
There is nothing for an Elf-princess to do here. We are expected to sit quietly and endure the confines and only look at the free woods outside our hidden walls, never wishing to be free.
I wish my kinswoman Aredhel were still here. But she was slain by Maeglin’s father, Ëol the Dark Elf, when she ventured outside our walls.
She loved even the tales of adventure and disliked being locked in Gondolin as much as I do now.
I loved her greatly, but I hate her ill-gotten son, for he is fully the son of his father.
I am in the library of my father, writing upon parchment when I should be studying the lore of our people. I will go now, and walk outside the palace, and at least look at the woods beyond our walls.
I dream of the day when we are freed from Gondolin the fair.