Aithanar

Again, Eliriael took up her quill, dipped it into the ink, and let her hand hover over the parchment. The tip of the quill stood upon the paper, the ink pooling together for a moment before she began writing. The quill etched itself into the parchment, leaving its imprint and a dark liquid trail behind.

My dearest Miruial,

Eliriael had spent countless days in the rain and sunshine of the valley. Little did she know of the time that passed her. She visited all her favorite places of old, friends she had not seen in many years, and found new fascinations in the changing leaves and waters.

My Lord,