Vinyalonde

He glanced sidelong at Dolthafaer, who shrugged slightly, stepping back a pace to afford more privacy. Always discreet, the Arrow Lord, thought Parnard.

They spoke of it as an unusual thing, this day of remembrance for Faorie.

My Lord,

It is my duty, as your most faithful, and most bounden servant, to make known to your lordship an account touching upon our time spent in the Hithaeglir, that the truth of the account may give you both knowledge and, I hope, great satisfaction.

“But what if I want to come home? What if it's all too strange, and I get frightened? What if I miss you all too much?” Linneth suppressed a laugh, looking at the small face of her daughter, crumpled with worry. She held out her arms, and Caethel ran forward and scrambled on to her lap, pressing her face against the front of her mother's robes. Gently, Linneth stroked her hair, waiting until Caethel pulled back a little and stared up into her face, grey eyes clouded with anxiety.

The eagle batted its golden eye and looked accusingly at him, as if it was Parnard's fault that it was so cold, and he was so far from the Valley, and so tired from roaming all night searching for him.

His left hand wavered in the air in front of the sharp beak as his right hand crept forward to remove the small scroll tied to its leg.

"Confounded bird!" he cried out, as the eagle nipped at him again and again, and struck him full in the face with its wing.

“A word, Lord Dolthafaer.”

No refreshment save battercake and wine, and standing on the walls of Hrimbarg Keep, I looked outward, staring at the sky, hoping for some glimpse of the lights in the darkling. Night comes on apace here in the far North.

Isilya, the 54th day of Tuilë

We arrived at Hrimbarg, northernmost settlement of the Mountains, near the Northern High Pass. There were a few Naugrim there, very surprised at seeing such a large group of Elves, some rather bedraggled and not looking much like soldiers, as one said to me.

Another day in icy Vindurhal, and the snow-storms are still blowing. I am writing this by candlelight, though it be almost midday, because it is so cold and bleak.