Imladris

Another day of sword lessons. I am making progress, though my body is sore.
Andswaru is a very patient teacher, though I know I drive him to despair sometimes. I must try to become a better student.

I think I need a sheath for the sword. I walked to the training yesterday afternoon and I saw an Elf staring at me and frowning. He looked like a guard, perhaps a captain.
I do not think it is polite to run around this valley with a naked blade. I must ask Andswaru to teach me enough Westron to buy a sheath for the sword tonight.

And the seamen saw an Elf with golden manes, reaching down to the end of his spine. His voice was fair and virtuous, pure and unstained. 

Again, Eliriael took up her quill, dipped it into the ink, and let her hand hover over the parchment. The tip of the quill stood upon the paper, the ink pooling together for a moment before she began writing. The quill etched itself into the parchment, leaving its imprint and a dark liquid trail behind.

My dearest Miruial,

Dearest Eliriael,

Have you arrived yet in Imladris safely? It has been many weeks now since you departed, promising to write of your arrival once you had reached Lord Elrond’s House.

Eliriael had spent countless days in the rain and sunshine of the valley. Little did she know of the time that passed her. She visited all her favorite places of old, friends she had not seen in many years, and found new fascinations in the changing leaves and waters.

Eliriael descended down the long, winding path into the valley. She patted the neck of her horse, Faenaur, showing affection and gratitude to her friend, who had carried her over a long distance for many days. Faenaur seemed to sense that they had reached their destination and gradually slowed her steps to a full stop. Eliriael deftly slid off Faenaur’s back to the ground in one fluid movement. She did not ride unless there was need for she wished as little discomfort upon her friend.

My Worthy Friend,