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A hawk soars above the Twilight Lake and heads southeastwards in a determined pace. Attached to his leg is a folded up piece of paper, sealed with bright blue wax, bearing the signet of a dagger.
A scheme improvised on the spot left Lefwin, Sindalea, Pedhir and Catalinna with 17 daggers of Westernesse, and more to come on the expenses of Angmar.
The letter is written in neat handwriting. Some of the full stops are smudged, as if the writer had paused to think and never removed the pen from the spot, messing the drying ink in the process. This seems to be the eighth of a series of letters to Rohan.
Deep in the hilly forests of Emyn Uial, Eira decides to stop running and simply enjoys the serenity of nature. The waterfall refreshes her, clenses her, as she breaths in her new life as a different person. She was born and raised here, despite never being here before. She was lost here, but it was her home. She smiled and the waters bathed her. This was Eira. She was Eira. Eira was home.