Rain slowly, gently falling onto the rooftop. Drip, drip, drip... the window was kept wide open in the hopes of at least a slight breeze, but there would be no wind in sight on this hot summers eve. It was dark already, as if someone had put a warm, wet blanket all over Imladris. From the window, one could see some lanterns still lit along the paths up to the Last Homely House. She would note guests coming and going long into the night. Some of the kin were most likely gathered in the Hall of Fire again, enjoying light music and good wine. Like most nights, those delights were denied her. The stacks of papers to be processed, to have signed, to double check, they all seemed to grow, no matter how many hours she spent reviewing them. Poor Lady Manadhlaer would all but have been crushed under all this administration were it not for her diligent administrators who gladly undertook such dull pasttimes.
The candle dripped, much like the rain. A few centimeters still, before it would be snuffed out in the night. Darkness did not bother her, as long as she could see the stars. Yet the numbers would sometimes start to bleed into each other, and dance along the paper as if they too wished for wine, dance and merriment. How could she be merry, though? Still no sight nor sound of him. Still... nothing. She had even stopped grasping the necklace, felt as if it had become a part of her being now. Waiting. Hoping. Wyling away the hours, the days, the months, clinging to the desperate anguish in the back of her mind, tucked away so far that not even the most deft treasure hunter could find it... was he still out there somewhere? Safe and hale?
No. Concentrate. Onehundredthirtytwo pieces of silver for a new door, owed by the house of Hammer... I see. The amount of after training sessions would have to be regulated soon, or they would be in the minus in the koffers. Something they are good at, the Hammers. Destruction. And smithing. Forging anew, some would say, is a necessity when something has become rotten. Destroy, rebuild, reuse. It is a terrible ordeal to go through. For everyone involved. But sometimes it cannot be avoided.
Startled, she realised where her train of thoughts were leading her, and sat up in the chair, blinking into the simpering fire. It had died down into a glowing coal kind of hearth, one that would keep you warm for the long night, but not burn so brightly that it harmed your eyes. A steady source of warmth, one to bring you into the lull of sleep. She cast a glance towards the doors of lady Manadhlaer and could see the light coming from underneath it. Another one burning the midnight oil.
Preparing for this journey was to prove quite the task. This time, we were not only seeking materials, but also knowledge. Congregating with other races was not always the easy path taken. She hoped that this time around, their willingness to help would eventually... bring about a joint effort. Yes, some hope lingered in the back of her mind. What was it... oh yes. Something that Sorontar had told her, late into the night one time. "Trade is what keeps us going." Without it, we shall soon all wither out and die. With it, the coin will grow and multiply, and all will benefit.
She looked down unto the numbers again. Though monetary gain was not their primary goal, perhaps there was something to be learnt from the giving and taking in it. The bargaining, as it were. To bargain with Dwarrow. Again, a daunting task. As much as lady Manadhlaer would lean on her for support, Tingruviel realised how much she would have to lean on Sorontars in this. His background and experience in trading for his father would become handy, for certain.
And there were the others, of course. Keen, hardworking, diligent members of the house. Magnificent souls with one goal in mind. All with different backgrounds, different experiences, but with the same loyalty towards the community. Even the new ones portrayed a level of dedication that sometimes felt hard to muster. Golvagor, Earnio, Daeruth... Two smiths and a scholar. Daeruth... Glancing to the side, where the pamphlet lay, she smiled. Finally she had found another scholar quick of wit and bright enough to uncover the most well kept secrets. For that is what they all did, wasn't it? Uncovering the past, the present and future, as it were. Well, Tingruviel did less and less of that in the last cycles. More administration and keeping of the books. As it befell the second in command to the lady of the Pillar. At least she still got to go out on the road once in a while. Breathe the fresh air. And so she would, by the morrow.
