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Realising with a glance out of a window that it is now near midnight, Nimuviel puts the pile of papers aside and slowly gets up. She takes a poker and leans forward to stir the smouldering embers a little more, then takes the now half-burnt candle by the light of which she had been reading, and goes around the living room to light the other candles with it as well. As she passes her study, she notices the old lute Liwurien had given four years ago lying in a corner next to a bookcase. On a shelf in the bookcase itself, half hidden under a disorderly pile of music scrolls, lies a flute. Entering the study with the weak, golden light of the candle, she moves over to the bookcase, and picks up the flute. Its smooth surface feels rough to her hands with the dust it has gathered, and looking down at the lute she notices that her first instrument is covered in a thin layer of greyish grime as well. She takes the instruments and puts them down on the table in the living room, amid the various piles of paperwork. From the small pantry she takes a damp rag and begins to clean her lute, while half sat on the edge of the table, occasionally casting a glance at the papers by the fireplace and thinking of all the memories that have come back to her through reading her old diaries. Turning her lute around in her hands a few times to check if it is thoroughly clean, she immediately observes the reflected light of the candles on the surface of the instrument revealing all the small marks, scratches and blemishes it has suffered over the years. She lowers the lute and rests its belly in her lap, letting her head lean against the bridge of the instrument, and stares into the softly glowing light of the hearth-fire for a little while. She lays the lute down again on the table, carefully, casts another look at the flute that is still dusty, but decides to leave it for what it is. She brings the rag back to the pantry and pours herself a cup of wine while she is there, and puts two bunches of grapes in a bowl. Returning to the living room with the wine and the fruit, she puts them down on a small table next to her comfortable long chair and picks up the separate sheets of paper that is her diary from the floor. With the pile of sheets on her lap, she makes herself comfortable in the chair, takes a sip from her wine and puts a few grapes into her mouth. She flicks through the pages again, reading them by date.