Fine wine, finer company

Dusk had drawn in throughout Ered Luin. The sky was coloured like a painter's water jar; milky grey swirled with ribbons of orange into blue and pink. Earlier, the heavens had opened and stopped the play of the She-Elf. Her plans to make camp in the surrounding forests of Celondim and spend the evening in the near darkness tracking and documenting the local flora and fauna had come to an abrupt halt having sensed the change in the weather. Now she found herself situated within a modest house in the Fallathorn homestead neighbourhood of Torn-en-Aduil. The elleth, finding herself with nothing to do other than simply sit, inside her home, found herself recalling from memory to mind, a chance meeting she had at the Dwarves midsummer feast. Many faces were present at the pleasant evening; some she knew and had met in passing before and others she had not. The wine and ale flowed, the courses of food she lost count of, and the evening was rounded off by a treat to the ears of performances by the evenings most talented musicians. Accompanied by her dearest companion Daethad, she had  decided to approach one particular ensemble of fine musicians to pay them compliments and praise of their talent, and that is where our tale begins...
As her mind wandered back to that tantalising evening, Lendreth's delicate hand twiddled with a thin cord of leather around her neck. As she began to write into her newly beloved, leather-bound journal, the twine around her neck tinkled softly with the chiming sound of two silver rings meeting each other as she played with them absentmindedly. One hand resting on her cherished memento of what once was her other hand penned these words.

Here again I find myself, seeking comfort to share my thoughts in the privacy of your pages. It has been only a few days since the ghelekvustmerag and so the memory is fresh to me. The emotions I feel just as vivid as they were on that first night.
With thanks to Bar-en-Acharn I found myself (along with the rest of the Kin) invited to the Midsummer feast of Durin's Folk. The night shall stand in good steading for a long time in my memory. An evening of fine comradary and entertainment as well as food and ale a plenty. There were many there that I had not had the pleasure of crossing paths with along with some familiar faces. Miss Cider, Vholrat, dear Daethad as well as Hiril Seregrian among a few of the faces I knew.
Among the faces that I did not know there were many that stood out against the crowd. One particular ensemble took my interest as their talent of the musical kind was something that has not graced my ears in a long time. A trio of ellon with musical talent akin to that of Bar-en-Acharn. I found I could not resist approaching them with the mind to tell them how wonderful I thought they were. I found myself in the fine company of Hir Idheron, Hir Lanthirros and Hir Aegaedil. They greeted me with charm and compliments and I was taken aback by the instant respect and connection I felt with them. Of course Daethad could not resist the temptation to join us with the handsome ellon and the teasing of me when he heard them complimenting me. And soon we found ourself together, talking of our home lands and our travels. Sharing stories and laughter and as the wine flowed the tongue loosened. After the majority of the guests had departed I found myself not wanting to leave their company and at the recommendation of Hir Lanthirros our Dwarvish host gave us a tour of the hidden gardens. My eyes were amazed at the dragon skull they had centre stage. It was a gargantuan thing of a dragon long ago. Many were grateful the thing was merely skull and bones and not living, but I could not help but feel mournful with the magnificent skull before my eyes. After a very entertaining race had by some of the other guests (influenced by Dwarven ale, of course) they departed back to the house for a tour by our host. This left Daethad and myself in the company of the charming trio and we were treated to another performance of their impeccable talent.

Taking a deep breath and a moment to herself, she paused her writing, eyes glancing to the fire crackling in the hearth. Her fingers still resting on the silver rings, her gaze averted to her furry companion sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.
"Mithrenor, it has been a long time since someone has evoked such feelings in me. Perhaps I am wrong for feeling such ways." As she spoke, she slipped her index finger into the slightly larger of the two rings and twisted it around as she paused in thought. The grey-furred fox opened one eye and considered his mistress from his basking spot. The worries of mortals and immortals were not his concern, Lendreth was sure he was thinking, but he humoured her by giving his attention at least. After a moment, she continued to write..

Daethad has his mind set on another suitor for me, I am sure of it. He was overjoyed, along with my adar and nanneth, at our betrothal, melnā. Thorin Oakenshield and his Dwarven greed put a stop to our love when the Battle against thirteen turned into a War against Orcs. You were a fine magor and I will never forget the Orc's blade meeting its mark as you looked for me on the Battle field. I thought my heart had been ripped from my chest and that my fae would leave me there on the battlefield.

Daggers in hand, the Orc did not stand a chance against the heart shattering fury I felt that day. And you were avenged melnā. 

A tear rolled from her cheek and dropped with a dull thud, splash, onto the page she was writing. The details of that fateful day were as fresh as yesterday to her. Wiping her face with the back of her hand she continued.

Dear Daethad, he cannot resist commentating on the going-ons of my life. He has become like adar to me and I am grateful for his care and guidance through these darkening times. But, he too, was taken with our musical companions, perhaps he will find himself well suited and leave the idea of me quite well alone.

A small smile crossed her lips as she closed the leather bound book and sat back in her chair. Looking once again to her furry companion she chuckled softly to see the Fox had wasted no time in falling back into a deep, restful slumber. At last she removed the silver ring from her finger and undid the twine around her neck. Holding both rings in front of her to look at them in the soft light of her home, she slipped the smaller of the two, her own ring, onto her finger. Still it fitted perfectly as it did all those years ago. On top of her ring she slid the slightly larger of the two, her index finger now adorned with two silver bands. They had tarnished slightly, having not been worn, but wearing them against her skin around her neck had kept them in better condition than silver left to the air. In the comfort of her home she could be careless with the tokens, however she knew she must continue to be vigilant in company. She could not bear to melt the rings, as was their custom, instead she took the ring from his corpse on the Battle field and kept it hidden with her until peace had fallen once more.

Night had drawn in around her home and she realised the rain had stopped also. Slipping the rings back to their safe place around her neck, within her leather gear, she decided to go for a walk to escape her thoughts and the sour memories.