Rivendell

Meetings held are always of serious concern - at least, that is which I find out during a discussion of the Shadow Hunters' attempts to trace down the Nine.

After a calm play of music, laughter, and talking, I retreated with Tanes and another of the Laiquendi Order into a corner of the Hall of Fire; There, we discussed the course of the Nine and the mysterious disturbances on Weathertop. We had ponderings, arguments, and chats, but everything came into one piece as we transcended further into our Topic - Mithrandir, the Grey Pilgrim, had been involved in this hunt.

Reiven hold up the silver swan amulet which was stained with blood, which was once belong to Daenaro, Darnur of Nargothrond, now entrusted her to carry. The rays of sun danced on the silver swan as she was trying to close the lavalieres’ clasp with her frostbite, aching fingers. But she ignored the pain and didn’t stop until feeling its cold touch hanging safely on her chest.

In a secluded chair I safely skulked, not wanting to draw attention to myself after a perilous journey. How exhausted I lay, panting, on this chair, after awakening from a sober sleep and state of unconsciousness.

How I came to lie on a bed in the Last Homely House, I know not, all I remember is a falling Bear, injuries, and then... darkness.

The sound of the pen moving on the parchment was filling the air. Then it suddenly stopped as grey blue looks fell onto the golden daisy which was lying on the writing desk for a while. Slim fingers reached out to touch its delicate petals.

Suil anim!
Greetings to me!