Manadhlaer

Not often was the grim visage of the Hound a face one might describe as anything but cold, cruel, contemptuous. Yet after he and his dearest friend, the Gondolindrim bastard, had finished their great work, his face lit with a strangely innocent joy. Galadhion beheld in Daegond all that he once was, before, and all that he should have been. That their project was grisly bothered Galadhion not at all at this moment, for his war-damaged friend was now happy.

Greetings Lady Himwen,

There isn't much time so I'll get to the point as fast as I can. I am staying around Sarmëtecil for the time being, unless you have other orders for me.

She had reached her breaking point that day...

She stirred, awakening in Tham Send. Armor clad, the Noldo blinked dreary eyes open and realized that she was alone.

"Mmph, what time is it?"

Tolmen awoke on a stone bench in a dark corner of the hall of fire, the hall empty aside from the dying embers of the fire even the ever present Gilfiniel and Sogadan had sought their beds.

Daeruth sighed, studying the dark gem was exceedingly taxing, and she could feel an enormous headache coming on.
She sighed again and set down the tool she was using, all her experiments on the gem told her it was a dangerous thing to possess, of all the experiments she performed the last was the most intriguing.

I do not know where to start. At the first glance Daegond might have been strange, crude and even mean to a person who did not know him, but he had more than meets the eye. Profound loyalty to those he protects. The reasons why he was behaving the way he did. A softer side which the Noldorin (or any) warrior tries so hard to hide under their shell of steel.

All I have in my mind are the scenes of meeting him.

Rain slowly, gently falling onto the rooftop. Drip, drip, drip... the window was kept wide open in the hopes of at least a slight breeze, but there would be no wind in sight on this hot summers eve. It was dark already, as if someone had put a warm, wet blanket all over Imladris. From the window, one could see some lanterns still lit along the paths up to the Last Homely House. She would note guests coming and going long into the night. Some of the kin were most likely gathered in the Hall of Fire again, enjoying light music and good wine. Like most nights, those delights were denied her.

Bíld son of Bóurr to Bóurr son of Bíld of Erebor greeting, and apology (as ever) for the lateness of this letter.