Brunnadan

Lusseriel was sitting in the cave, next to the fire, her backpack near her, Mrs Hops running around under her watch. Well if someone ended up killing and eating the rabbit, could she really blame them...?

She picked up her journal from her bag, and used the bag as a makeshift table to place the journal to write.

Lusseriel was in the inn of the city, appreciating of the fire and warmth despite the number of drunken humans around.

For once she didn't plan to go spend the night outside the city. She was sitting at a table, nearest one of the window, the coolest area in the room.

In Snowbourn, sitting against a wall, waiting for Gleowine to sober up, Lusseriel picked up the poor damaged harp, taking a good look at it.

She then almost emptied her own backpack looking for something and came up with the harp first aid kit she always had on her.

At the crossing, Lusseriel decided to sit with her back against a tree. The area wasn’t safe, per se, but at least it looked calm enough. And while everyone seemed to need a bit of time to process everything that happened, she picked up her journal.

The sun was shining over her head, and Lusseriel had left the city to go ride for a bit, careful of her surrounding, to stop at a place she deemed safe enough, where she started to pick up a few plants she thought could be useful in the future.

It’s been a while since I last needed to write down my thoughts. No doubt I will end up burning this later. It is dangerous to leave thoughts such as this written down. For now, though… it might help. Ilthirian and Lusseriel told me something today. I do not know where they got the idea from, but I regret pushing so hard for them to tell me. 

Lusseriel was on the cliff side near Eaworth, Mrs Hops hopping around in the high herbs nearby. The elf looked at the rabbit for a while before warning her: 

"If you get eaten, or fall off of the cliff..."

It’s almost relaxed that Lusseriel was sitting in the stable near her horse. The black creature was beautiful and a wonderful companion. Near her feet, Mrs Hops was munching on some hay that came from the horse feed.

Lusseriel patted the animal’s head and decided to pick up her diary and only stopped long enough to glare at a far too curious stable-hand until he got the message and left.

Sitting near a fireplace in the tavern in Clivings, Lusseriel had her attention on the notebook in her laps.  

“I last wrote when we were in Mansig’s camp. We found a good vantage point to find the direction the uruks were taking. We saw it in the form of a cloud of dust in the distance.

In Mansig’s camp, when the night was well fallen, and the air was silent around the camp, Lusseriel was sitting by the fire. She had finished helping making new salves, and now she was left alone with her thought.

The rabbit was sleeping curled up in a side bag she had bartered with one of the men just to allow the animal to sleep out of the way without being a nuisance to track down.