Fillegedhiel

I have risen early, slipped into a robe and wandering up to the gleaming Dwarrow Mirror high above Tol Lochul to greet the dawn. Stars are still gleaming in the velvet blue sky as I reach my perch, arrange my implements, and begin to draft this account. 

(( Written using emotes from in-game))

It was by no means late yet but Bree-town and its streets were quiet, a more and more common occurance during the winter months. The yellow light of candles and lanterns burned in the windows as most of the town's inhabitants cloistered themselves in their warm homes or the inn. The only foot traffic to be seen was coming from the North Gate and moving along the road leading to the Prancing Pony as weary travelers and frost-bitten tradesmen hurried towards the promise of warm fires and warming drinks.

This evening, staring into the fire, I had words with Xandilif. She is in Anorien still, driving out a Uruk captain and his men who had infested a group of ruins, and typically having a splendid time. However at my entreaties she finally agreed to come west once her work is done and see if she might pick up Xanir's trail elsewhere, perhaps at Esteldin and amongst the foothills near Angmar. I think she agreed to such an action simply so that when she finds him she can taunt me over my baseless worry and failure as a huntress for years to come.

I continue to linger in Bree as my initial panic concerning Xanir has abated into a quiet anxiety, gnawing at me in ways that I cannot explain or dismiss. He has continued to ignore the summons Xandilif sent him...but because he does not wish to respond or because he cannot remains to be seen.