Wisterhya

Friend Wisterhya,

I trust you be well - it was an unexpected delight to speak once more last night, after so long.  Alas, I have recently been occupied with errands in the north, and so have been an infrequent guest of the Pony - with luck, I shall be present again soon.

Stalks of grass and flowers alike would have bristled pleasantly to the guiding hand of the early morning breeze. The wind carving its way over the collection of dirt and stone that surrounded Nenuial; where picturesque landscapes had been butchered by the unstoppable ingenuity of man. The river which flowed below an undeterminable King’s feet seemed rather gentle this morn, to Dagramir’s keen eye. The Gondorian stood calm upon the edge of the withering bridge, feet spread evenly to the tune of his shoulders.