Manadhlaer

Oh, Diary! How long have I been unwilling to touch your pages, to record what has really happened?

It appears I do not have to cook much today. There are still much food after the feast of unveiling Anglachelm's portrait, and I have to get yet rid of some of it, somehow.

Diary, I have long neglected you. The seasons turn -- without Themodir. The apples fall -- without Themodir. We might have gone picking nuts together.

And I deem Norliriel suffers nearly as much as I do, and that is bottomless agony. Again I come to the problem of having some skill fixing the hröa but not the fëa, not over some ocean of grief this deep, while I too am shipwrecked in it.

"I shall brush him as if the Dagor Dagorath itself would be coming! Ha ha!"

"Ha ha!" Parnard joined in. "Raolor was only jesting. As I thought," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Norliriel was hurt and being tended to a short distance away underneath an oak tree. Excusing himself to Ráolor and the rest, he wandered over to see how she fared. 

This letter is written with an exceptionally narrow nib, yet still the Tengwar are somewhat sloppy; the document was created in haste.

Note to myself -- shall I send a bird? Would Aulë's Folk let someone read this for me at the Harnkegger Games? I dare not leave the Houses of Healing for long: a patient's life hangs in the balance, and I could not be there by tomorrow in any case without abusing a whole relay of horses...

The Maiden Bride

This parchment was wedged beneath two stones of the cairn of Themodir at Imladris. It would be found only after an Age or more of Man might crumble the very stones. The message on it was written in a firm hand, that mostly betrayed little of its writer's profound emotion.

My darling,

The warm humid air was heavy with the cloying perfume of sweet jasmine and tuberose. Slowly the light shifted, brightening from the soft grey light to the whiteness of a new day. He became aware of voices lifted in greeting and opened his eyes.

A tall, thin elf in a long burgundy robe was smiling at everybody. He seemed to be very well known, and spoke softly using a language Laelas could not decipher.

Yesterday evening he was disinclined for conversation. Oh yes, he has appetite, but no relish, and after eating he is downhearted and anxious.

Oh, Diary. Will the bleeding of my heart never cease.

I stood at the cairn today -- I go there daily, and speak to my darling of trivial events in the Valley, but today the remaining members of the campaign to the Hithaeglir returned. Each paid their respects in their own ways.

Oh Diary.