Golvagor

Manadhlaer heard a familiar step, a neat and exact tread, not louder than was needful. A soldier's step. Not unlike hir Branalph's, but Branalph was away. She did not turn.

"Golvagor," she said, and saying the name, at last turned from her work and smiled.

He came further into the room, robed in flowing white -- by which Manadhlaer guessed Golvagor had not come directly from the forges. Gently smiling, Golvagor bowed -- a gesture not of subservience, but almost of merriment, despite his military bearing.

Rivendell,

A couple of months earlier

Redandir was sitting on the grass near one of many bodies of water in the Valley. He had a straw in his mouth and was looking at the water, all in his thoughts.

“Rivendell seems like a nice place, probably even better than my homeland. And elves here are so lovely too. At least those that I’ve met…”

Sarmëtecil, the secretary-scribe of the Order of the Pillar, had learned a trick lately for dealing with the Lady's recent jumpiness: she knocked on the wall of the hallway before reaching the door of the office. The sound was fainter and, to the keen ears of the Eldar, fairer -- perhaps the wood was lebethron, Sarmë knew not, and she was no harpist, but judged the sound to be lighter and gentler than the sound of knocking on the actual door.

Well, Diary, a thorough search of Themodir's house -- I must get in there to clean it more often; the drake trophies in particular look as if they were slain by dust -- revealed none of the missing ledger pages. I had not really thought they might be there, but every possibility must be examined. I suppose that I wanted his guidance, even the faint scent of his presence -- the imprint of his fëa upon the things he handled and touched.

At last Arradril and Filegris had a rest period at the same time, and accordingly flopped down by the side of a well-loved pond north-west of the Last Homely House. Filegris, who had meant merely to clear her head of the whirl of recent events, was startled and delighted when Arradril produced from her pack five apples -- red, but with a golden undertone that peeked out in little streaks, particularly at the top near the stem -- and some hard orange cheese. She divided the fifth apple into perfect halves and presented Filegris with half of her bounty.

Only the last word in the signature line was, for obscure reasons, emphasized in red ink.

Dear Quartermaster Golvagor:

I am writing to request some supplies in the event that hir Tolmen should become a guest at the Houses of Healing.

Dear Diary,

After several days of traveling through mostly uninhabited lands we came upon some old ruins of men, the scouts reported they were occupied by brigands or whatnot, no match for our fine soldiers!. Our Lord Tindir led the charge and soon they had control of the buildings giving me time to examine what turned out to be some Numenorean architecture and statuary, crude by elven standards, but still a welcome distraction to the plodding boredom of travel. Sadly i was too busy sketching and didn't realise the guards had moved to a higher location.

Dear Diary,

Well, the meeting turned into a great shambles of speculation, and then it turned into an expedition. Not back to Eregion, to try the restored keys provided by Earnio, but to the Blue Mountains, and indeed the doors of Thorin's Halls.

Tingruviel asked to make the diplomatic request for information in person. I could hardly deny her this -- she knows best about what approaches work, and we need this to work.