Ebbephant,
Forgive me for not making the journey to Lothlorien alongside your beloved Nelnardis and your muinthel, Forostel. A strange encounter of mine in the Northern end of the Trollshaws has left me -
Faorie folds the paper semi neatly and slides it to the other end of her red table. She stands from her seat and searches through her bookcase for another piece of blank parchment. Sitting back down, she attempts another letter.
Ebbephant,
I hope all is well with you. I have heard the news of your injury and it causes me great worry for your well being. Surely you are -
She folds the paper again, scrapping it impatiently towards the last failed letter. Like before, she stands from her seat and traces her steps back to the bookcase where she pulls out another piece of blank parchment. Seating herself, she begins yet again. “Dearest Ebbephant,” she writes. Then stops.
Faorie fails to articulate herself properly through thought, what makes her think that she would find more ease in attempting to do so in a letter? Instead, she sets down her quill and lays her face on her palms, sliding them up through her hair and leaving them folded behind her neck. “Ebbephant, please be well,” she thinks to herself. “Be safe.”
Ebbephant, being her closest, most trusted friend known long before she had met the Warband, had found himself in extreme danger before escaping to Lothlorien. Faorie had never imagined such a traumatic instance to happen to Ebbephant. At times, it seems as if the members of the Warband are invincible. All enemies slain, all threats removed, all injuries – in some way or another – healed. But not this one. There is no healing a ripped arm from its socket.
Sighing, Faorie pulls the parchment closer and begins to write.
Dearest Ebbephant
A friend awaits you in Imladris, wishing to see you well and alive with her own eyes. I pray you find your journey to be swift and far from harm. Your courage is your biggest strength Ebbephant, and your strength had led you to many victories.
May it continue to lead you to many more while members of the Warband stand by your side as both your allies and your friends.
Yours,
She hesitates in writing her name. The letter does not hold the words that bare the same influence her mind has on her heart. But she has wasted enough paper, and enough time has passed without sending word to Ebbephant.
Yours, Faorie.
