Faörie did not attend the funeral, though she should have. She did not speak the words she wished to, but there is no one to speak them to now but Themodir who is gone.

Before the cairn she stands, fixing her gaze on a memory of her own loss. She did not know Themodir, but to lose one's own kin returns the sorrow she felt from long ago.

Kneeling over the cairn, she pulls out a small nut from her pouch gifted to her by Ancalasse. She grips it and lowers her head onto her fist, closing her eyes.

The afternoon was calm and warm, just as Faorie knew it was to be when returning from the Misty Mountains. But this was not her return, it was a visit, for her presence was still expected with that of the Warband's ally company, Vanimar.

While exiting the Last Homely House, she noted in the distance two figures walking over a small bridge to the right, nearly escaping her view. She would have thought nothing of it had the only notable feature been something other than the cloak all warriors of the Warband wear.

Two horses stumbled down the path from the Misty Mountains, their riders slumped over saddles in exhaustion.

(March 29th, 2015)

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This is related to the following event:
Rivendell Chicken Run
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          I awoke to the soft sound of rain pattering on my cloth tent. As I arose, the early morning sun was just creeping over the horizon, and I felt reassured about my current task. It has been 5 months since my last entry in my journal, concerning Forochel, and now again I set off to ensure the stability of the land.