Dealia

Lusseriel was sitting with her back against a tree-trunk, her bare feet in the water of the river, at the light of a fire nearby and of the dim light of the sun setting in the horizon. She let her eyes trail over the river for a moment before she turned back to her journal on her laps.

"It's been a few days since I last wrote anything in there. Since then, many things happened.

Lusseriel was sitting near a fire, her journal in hands and her sword, newly cleaned next to her, the content of her bag being mostly a mess on the ground around her. Harp strings there, bee's wax here, sword and shield cleaning supply there, a random piece of wood (what was it even and what was it doing in her bag to start with?) there.

Lusseriel was sitting against the hard stones of the half destroyed wall of the ruins of Thangulhad. She looked tired and her armor and sword looked like they had seen better days.

She looked at her sword with a slightly disappointed face, and then picked up her journal:

Lusseriel was sitting near a campfire, her journal on her laps, and her eyes drown despite herself to her harp. She’s had a music in her mind for hours now and…

She scribbled the date on a corner absently, and winced at the cheer mess that made… And then she shrugged. It was just a personal journal, it was of no consequence.

Lusseriel was sitting on top of the wall of Ost Galadh.

She was so quiet in a corner, and so out of the way, that she wasn't sure if the two other elves up there noticed her yet. Tiredly, she reached into her backpack and pulled out her notebook, and writing supply.

Lusseriel was sitting at a table in the shadowy inn, in Mirkwood, near the ruins of a settlement. She was near a fire going, and enjoying the warmth. Her backpack was on the floor near her, and she had her journal open in front of her on the table.

The date was scribbled in a messy hand in the corner of the page and she started to write.