Saranasse

This letter is as pretty as its predecessor, but appears to be in a different hand, likely Manadhlaer's own. It is more of a silken parasol than a formal linen napkin this time.

Angrinc
Guest Houses, Imladris

Esteemed Angrinc:

I am terribly embarrassed to admit this, but I have at least one terrified witness to this event.

I was in the garden, with my dog poking about shrew-burrows and my swan stalking about ominously in the background -- even after I had told her to go and play in the stream. Imagine.

She had reached her breaking point that day...

She stirred, awakening in Tham Send. Armor clad, the Noldo blinked dreary eyes open and realized that she was alone.

"Mmph, what time is it?"

Tolmen awoke on a stone bench in a dark corner of the hall of fire, the hall empty aside from the dying embers of the fire even the ever present Gilfiniel and Sogadan had sought their beds.

So many departures. They knew that this day would come, that they would have to be prepared. It still made her wonder, despite their training, were the Fountaineers ready for this? As she left the Pillar hall, her conversation with Tingruviel still rung in her ears.

Notes for Arrow Field Medic Training

Sprained. The ankle was most definitely sprained. Manadhlaer, Lady of the Houses of Healing, handled the swollen, empurpled joint herself with long fingers, probing the Arrow's leg as delicately as possible. "Filegris," the imposing Telerë asked her reclining patient, "how ever did you strain every tendon at once?