Merenellon

It was not, as such things went, a terribly dramatic meeting. Manadhlaer had taken her mare for a walk, as she did regularly at the advice of the horse-expert Nenrildë -- and while Milkthistle was a game creature and held her head high, the rider felt the weariness of the beast as if it were her own. She would need pasturing soon, and a retirement from adventure.

Coming the other way, toward the Hall of the Pillar, was Glorfingwë in his pale blue robes. Both reined in their horses and hailed each other.

My dear Merenellon,

I have only just received this letter by courier -- I have learned from the earlier incident with the postal courier, you will be glad to hear, and now no matter how much little Daegond barks, I have my mail brought to Pillar Hall instead. Cats do have a way of treating strangers with a sublime indifference of which my poor little anger-sprout is simply incapable.