Greengrove

Ethuilon,

Of course you've bloody left Rivendell. Trust a Mirkwood elf never to stay in the same place for long. I always wondered how your folk could stand all that moving around. I reckon it's a bit like your Noldor cousins feeling the call to the West, except for you lot it's more like "the call to be an incorrigible pain in the arse at every possible opportunity".

Bree, Present Day

Ryheric received a letter after a difficult day and with some heaviness and finality in his heart. He opened it once delivered by the runner.

He was slow at reading it, but reading was a skill recently learned he was grateful for. It was often difficult to believe he could do such an amazing thing. He enjoyed reading immensely despite his slowness.

Saving the Farm Click here to listen

It was not common for Ryheric to receive letters these days. Few who knew him had any idea where he was. So, after a long few days out at the lumber mill near Combe, it was with a wary sidelong glance he accepted a note addressed to him at the bar.

The companions he'd grown close to over the last two years were far away in Gondor. A lurking numbness formed in his gut. The warrior's calloused fingertips found purchase on the warm, chalky paper. That numb feeling rode the expectation that someone he cared about had died.