Taala

It was well past noon, going on the evening when the last of the available summoned had arrived. Only some had come. Those who had, had just happened to be near enough for the riders to find. Like as not, some of them would be coming drunk, but Newell kept an eye on all who came and noted what their eyes fell on when entering and who they talked to. As the people gathered in the main hall of the Dawnhall, Newell stood near the back, leaning on one of the pillars as he kept an eye on who were there, or even more interesting, those who were not.

Entry Twelve: Exile

It has been long, since one parted the pages of this journal. Not since that of the Misty Mountains and that of the banishment of the company from the vale. Much has happened since the day one’s wound would heal and it was time to depart from Imladris. Khalis truly showed friendship, risking his position to spare one’s own banishment. One will be forever grateful to Khalis, till the end of his days amongst these lands.

It's late, my knee is hurt and I'm here writing, in the middle of the night. Something must have gone wrong in my head to be writing, instead of sleeping after these last days... Like the rest of Bree, they are getting crazier and crazier for some reason... I can't wait to leave again... But that's not the reason I write, the reason is the wedding, or rather... The attack...

Foxwin and Taala arriving at the Engagement Party of Rhianonn and Anadryt.

It has been five days since Fiontann got the letter from Rogue, the ranger wrote that he's in Annuminas and everything is well, they are under constant attacks but they do fine. All that reminded him of his time in Moria, where one couldn't rest as much as needed, each time they got to rest, the drums of the Goblins were sounding and they had to fight again. All that came as a sweet memory, those caverns, deep down underground... It felt like home...

Last night, there was much talk in the Hall of a band of Men encamped outside the Gate of the Valley, and some thought they were refugees, fleeing the darkness, and others thought them a group of roving bandits, and some thought they might be supplicants, messengers sent to ask for aid from Lord Elrond: arms, or stores of food, though I thought this year’s harvest a bountiful one, as there was plenty of rain and sunshine, in proper amounts.

Entry Ten: Road to Ruin