Angrinc

((Content warning - this is a Grimms' style dark fairy tale.))

There once was a forest beyond the edge of night, where three boys went winter-wandering, far from home.  And those three boys came to a cottage, and they were afraid, for there was an evil stench about it and its windows were black.

Captain Sáranassë of the Order of the Arrow was many things, as she stood in Lady Manadhlaer’s office. She was tall, and fair in her austere way, and armored. She was a daughter of the Noldor, a creature of stealth and odd habits. She was a hardened warrior and a keeper of secrets. The one thing Sáranassë was not, by any means, was amused.

Coward

Angrinc sat, and the fruits of his labour were scattered about him.  He glanced toward his mailed gauntlets, soaked in blood and gore, shaking in terror even now that the danger had passed.  He could feel the pounding of his heart, each fierce beat both a welcome relief and cruel reminder of the terror he had felt scarce minutes before.

You’re nothing but a coward

A letter, finely drafted on high-quality parchment by the experienced hand belonging to Askelin. The words, however, are from Arindiis' lips with minor edits. 

Dear and beloved Arindiis,

My beloved friend Angrinc, 

Before addressing the content of your letter, I feel moved to express what a consequent pleasure it is to read your fine handwriting and elaborate language. It warms me completely, how you think of me and refer to me with so much kind devotion. 

This diary page is splotched with tea along one edge, but is perfectly legible.

Well, Diary? Can you believe it? I shall finally be having some company who is not coming to my door with an arrow in them, or bone sticking out of them, or spitting blood. That is, if he actually forgives me. I do hope the boy forgives me. Not everybody of my own kindred has had the sort of life I have led, and I need to be mindful of that. 

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.

Everything about the choice of parchment -- not paper -- for this letter, the unfailing perfection of the calligraphy, and the signet of the Order of the Pillar is presented with ballgown formality.

Angrinc
Guest Quarters, Imladris

My most esteemed mortal comrade: