diary of a bard: 2 The gift of an Avar

“With a pale and wet face Tyelepoma wanders slowely through the house of Lord Elrond. The duel with Minyelaire was a couple of days ago, yet the fight isn’t over for the bard of Gondolin”

It has been a few days now, since the power-struggle in Delossad, the fight
between a Noldo and an Avar. The foul spear carried a dreadful poison,
of which the healers of Imladris say that a cure would be hard to find.
The thought of this worries me a lot. Will this mean I must leave these
shores and go to the Uttermost West ? Must Athlidhrael live on without me?

The healers gave me a medicine against the poison, though it only slows
its effects. Everyday I seem to need to drink more of it to feel the it
actual effect. I’m running out of time, yet I hold hope that the
skilled elves of Imladris find a permanent cure.

The wound still lays open and everytime I change the bandages I can see the
terrible ailment working upon my body. The flesh around the infected area is turning
black and lame. Even now when I’m writing, I feel tingles within my fingers. It shall be a challenge to hide what I'm suffering from the rest of the community. I pray to the Valar that I may stand next to Athlidhrael when we hold our betroathal feast by our house.

Alas, it’s time for me to return to Duilond. There are preparations to be made for this up comming event.