Danel

Anáwiel was lying motionlessly on her back in the grass, her hands resting on her chest, silently admiring the stars above. The moon hadn't risen yet and apart from a few clouds the night sky was unobstructed and visible in its full glory. The seven stars of the Valacirca looked especially bright that night.

Somehow things had changed. Friends were bidding farewell, for different reasons. As she watched some of them leave the valley through the open window, all she could hope for them was that their journey would bring them someplace safe.

She took a short step forward towards the vacant desk below the window. Her dress forbade any wider movements. The grey and gold silk robe she had worn for such a long time felt heavy like armour. Would she have need of it? She smirked, thinking she should stop wearing mouse-like raiment and perhaps clothe herself in more vivid colours.

It appears I do not have to cook much today. There are still much food after the feast of unveiling Anglachelm's portrait, and I have to get yet rid of some of it, somehow.

In the Hall of Fire elves gathered, summoned by their Lord Anglachelm.

The stories are never enough.

No matter how famous people are, their skill can be only verified and experienced in a personal encounter.

"I shall brush him as if the Dagor Dagorath itself would be coming! Ha ha!"

"Ha ha!" Parnard joined in. "Raolor was only jesting. As I thought," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Norliriel was hurt and being tended to a short distance away underneath an oak tree. Excusing himself to Ráolor and the rest, he wandered over to see how she fared.