Turmagor

The eagle batted its golden eye and looked accusingly at him, as if it was Parnard's fault that it was so cold, and he was so far from the Valley, and so tired from roaming all night searching for him.

His left hand wavered in the air in front of the sharp beak as his right hand crept forward to remove the small scroll tied to its leg.

"Confounded bird!" he cried out, as the eagle nipped at him again and again, and struck him full in the face with its wing.

It could not have been a more splendid day for a tournament. 

The sun was high in the clear blue sky by the time Dolthafaer arrived in Delossad – the ruins situated in a glade not far from Imladris, pillars and walls of crumbling grey stone encircling a courtyard overgrown with wildflowers of purple and white and gold.  

Today I awoke with a terrible pain behind my eyes, and I sat blinking in the sunlight not knowing where I was, until a cooked egg was thrust in my face, and I was bid to eat it by the Lady Himwen. I was told that the eggs were laid by a wild pea-hen, but they were not able to catch and roast the hen, which is a sore pity.

It seems to be hours since I left lord Estarfin and Turmagor to go to sleep. And still sleep evades me as the past two days events keep coming to my mind. Oh, alright, not all these days’ events. Just some of them.

How Parnard basically owes his life to the fact he was suffering from more than one arrow wounds to beginning with and how I didn’t noticed the state of Parnard’s ankle, which could have healed badly, provoking a permanent fragility of the joint, chronic pain and blood circulation problem.

OOC: You characters may not know about the following unless they heard it from one of the present.

*a page from Veryacano's personal notebook which he uses to record important events*