Rivendell

Daphne had rushed to dress herself and run a brush through her hair before knocking and stepping over to where Anastasiar was trying to get into the wedding dress, without letting it touch the floor.

The letter is enclosed in an envelope hastily folded, and slightly bent from where the bearer had tucked it away before its delivery to its recipient. The seal, however, a wax seal of gold color with the inlay of a swan. It was precisely pressed on, careful deliberate application taken in how it was applied to the envelope. The recipient's name was scrawled on the back with a flourished but hurried motion of handwriting.

This diary is dated several days earlier.

I’ve sat on this bed, in this room, for three days now. After having been chased through the Lone-lands by all sorts of fell creatures, I was attacked by a Warg. In the Trollshaws!  These are dark times indeed if such beasts would come hither to the lands so close to Imladris. 

Day 75 of exile

Although her home is in Lindon; in the case of visiting Rivendell for an extended time, Aurthiel has a quarters to call her own.

For the hundredth time, Tuilérie goes through her light pack, the bedroll, and spare supplies. "Lembas", she thinks to herself, and nods. And there is the map of Eregion, safely rolled and carefully stowed away in a water-proof case, as well as her fishing rod. She pats Nolandur gently on his head, who follows her around, tail wagging without cease, sniffing at everything.