elisbeth

Since returning to the vale after spending some time with the sons of Elrond one of whom he had served alongside with for many centuries his spirit still seemed restless. Even practising the age old sword patterns long ago burned into his muscle memory did not settle him. The sword patterns are a few memories that have remained with him when many others were lost that fateful day.

As he closed his eyes, he felt how the room became smaller.
He could feel the dread crawl up from deep within himself and gnaw at his heart.
The scars on his body ached, as he remembered each and every one.

With a loud creak of the front door, Faorie returns to her house, weary of the long day's festivities. She holds a hand woven satchel borrowed from the House of Iavasant storing all of her gifts from the party in one hand while the other drags a disposable bag of empty wine bottles.
Leaving the bag of bottles by the front door, she carries the satchel to her study where she carefully removes all of its contents.

My Lord,

It is my duty, as your most faithful, and most bounden servant, to make known to your lordship an account touching upon our time spent in the Hithaeglir, that the truth of the account may give you both knowledge and, I hope, great satisfaction.

No refreshment save battercake and wine, and standing on the walls of Hrimbarg Keep, I looked outward, staring at the sky, hoping for some glimpse of the lights in the darkling. Night comes on apace here in the far North.

Parnard sat on a fallen tree, feet dangling, the pointed tips of his boots tracing strange figures in the snow.

"That accursed Man is already causing problems, and we are not even deep into the mountains," he said in Quenya softly to Limiriel .

"What kind of problems?"