((friendship))

After what happened in Esteldín, there was much to think about. My poor Guri had safely made it back to Bree, thank the Valar, but much damage had been done. I found her waiting for me at our gazebo, our safe place. Ulysior arrived shortly after, and she broke the silence.

The last few months had been quite busy for me. There was still much to be done in Khazâd-Dum, and the dwarves sure did pay well. Spending my time with the finest of craftsmen among Durin’s Folk proved fruitful, as well, as I walked out of Moria with my finest work yet – a vibrant, shining set of plate armor with the slightest hints of mithril infused into it.

A story as told by Emmawynn to a friend on the road.
 

"There was once a little girl who lived in a tree.  While she was in the tree bad things did not happen to her.  If she left the tree, when she came back she could find comfort and stillness, a way through the bad things that happened outside."

I was wandering in the wilderness, past Bree and the swamps laying at its east. I was traveling in the dark, lurking around orcs, wargs, spiders and creeping ones, My arrows were taking their toll among the evil-doers and feeding myself from the wild animals roaming these hills. Alone on my way with no particular aim, I enjoyed the inner calm of traveling this way.