Aeglorond

“Now again, through the next hole…like that…now pick up a loop- No, the other way. Pull through the first two…you’re getting it, now the sec- good!” The small fingers moved as Sareva had directed, the young girl working slowly as she practiced. “Your treble crocheting is starting to look more uniform.”

Owena’s sweet shop was small, homey, charming, and very, very crowded. She hadn’t expected such a group, but as she stayed around, it didn’t sound like it was an uncommon occurrence. However, the baker handled it well. At least, she dealt with the volume of customers well; she was, however, a tad naïve about some of the types in her shop. One, a drunkard, wandered into the back room and might have gotten into all sorts of mischief if he had not been so docile.

The evening was chilly, but she could tell there was a touch of spring in the air, barely, as the glow of dawn on the horizon, but enough to take the bite off the cold. She’d left her shawl at home, with just her cloak around her. After she’d delivered the tunic and vest to the vendor on in the Stone Quarter, the skirt to the lady on the High Stair, she stopped by the inn for a drink.

The roots weren’t very deep for the weeds in the garden. Sareva didn’t give them time to take hold, vigilantly tending the lavender she’d planted that spring. Keeping busy, it was what she needed, what she always did, especially in times like these. Otherwise…

It had been weeks and one dead half orc since Aallan last saw Dufr in the Lone Lands.

Light marks on the fabric rolled across the table outlined the future cuts that were to be made. With the size of the pieces she would need, she considered using the long table in the main room, but this one in the shop would suffice for one at a time. After all, if there was one thing about Aeonid, he was large. Though she considered herself a little above average when it came to women’s heights, he was still nearly a foot taller than her and was no thin birch tree.

I saw Tothrandir in the market a few days ago. I think he must have seen me and crept up behind me, for I suddenly heard his voice, turned around, and was face to face with him. It's strange, the sight of him sends me immediately back to my early days in Bree, when I was just a lonely, unsure girl who was unbearably smitten with this tall, dark stranger with the gentlest grey eyes I'd ever seen. In a way, I dislike the effect he has on me.

It's amazing how people could pretend to be friendly when certain people are around and then be really rude when they're not. The reason why I say that will be explained soon.

Is it possible to gloss over horror and wickedness, with something so simple as love? Can grace or forgiveness or compassion or any other kind thing, somehow blanket these dark stains, without ever truly dealing with them, to a point where you can simply step over them and pretend they no longer exist? It seems as though that is what people are trying to do right now. And I want it to work. I want the smiles and jests and hugs and well-wishes to make everything better, to erase the cloud that hovers over me. To help me forget. 

But it isn't working.

(Tears could be seen as stained all throughout the parchment)

You really don't know what it's like to have a huge part of your life and your heart just ripped out of you until you experience it yourself. I really wished that there was no such thing as nobles in this world... If they didn't, Agreis would've been still alive. Do I blame Raven for what had happened to him because of him being captured? Or do I blame the one that had caused Agreis to die in the first place? I suppose I should explain how things were first.