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This is Loth-i-Lonnath gathering with friends before dusk and preparing to make the Mid-Winter procession of lights in honour of Elbereth and the stars.
At the little cottage in the village of Hamglen, Zavas sat long leafing through tomes that mostly had little to do with the cause of the errand that had brought a group of their company to the doorstep of the Ered Luin this forthmoon past. His thought was divided into a myriad of concerns and to set focus on a well accustomed task of the mind always helped him to arrange what was needed most at the hour. But this time it didn’t quite work.
Ilvanyë regarded the giantess carefully, noting the unusual height she held, and the powerful, unerring aura she carried herself with. The patient laid out in front of her seemed almost miniscule in comparison to the behemoth that was the woman she later learned to be named Hravanis, the wandering sword who had brought her the poisoned Elf.
After a long ride, traveling nearly week (IC), we found a suitable camp in the Lonelands. We sang songs, played music, and had many discussions around the campfire.