Hail and well met, friend. I am Glorinda, of the Elves dwelling yet at Grey Havens, and I bear tidings about Middle-earth in the Fourth Age.

Three hundred summers past the Shadow of Mordor, whose name we do not speak, was vanquished.

You may already know this is the age of the Dominion of Men. Yet it is true that other speaking peoples abide in Middle-earth. In the years since the fall of the Shadow many Elven folk passed over Sea into the West, but some of us remain yet in Middle-earth, folk of the wood and the forest. Dwarves dwell in their mountain caverns and glittering caves, and the Halflings go about their business in The Shire.

The Grey Havens lie here beside the languid waters of the great sea. This harbour was established at the end of the First Age, when Círdan the shipwright, our leader, came hence from the fall of Beleriand. From here the High Elves would set sail to the uttermost West when they grew weary of Middle-earth and its troubles. Few now seek the Havens, but the last white ship has not yet sailed.

This is a great continent and none have traveled its entirety. The northwest is a populous and fertile region; for many ages the free peoples have laboured here in pursuit of fairer realms. To the east and the south we go not, and have little knowledge.

I welcome you as a new wanderer to Middle-earth.

To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,
The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.
West, west away the round sun is falling.
Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,
The voices of my people that have gone before me?
I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;
For our days are ending and our years failing.
I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.
Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,
Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,
In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,
Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!

- Return of the King