Settled upon a boulder in the ruins of Gwingris, Lothelian  gazed quietly at the stars above. The night was still, as most were resting, and she could see the embers of the evening's fire glowing softly in the distance. She shuffled around on the rock as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Annúngil, and she turned to him, face brightening.

"The others went to look for some shelter to spend the night?" he asked.

Valanya, the 18^th day of Coirë

Dear Cae,

What do you mean, you are going on a birb bird rescue (sorry about that, Turdor jogged my arm)? Are you serious? I know I asked for cheerful stories... but come on. A happy picnic-trip to reunite a courier with her beloved dove sounds a bit far-fetched. I would have settled for an account of a good party!

Erion.

This letter bears an official seal of two mallorn leaves. It is written with a clear, crisp script, with no unnecessary flourishes or ornaments. The work of a heavy hand, all the letters march across the page in strict ranks.

To Second Lieutenant Aicalion of the Golden Wood, Greetings.