Mirobel

Sunday May 13th, Visiting Mirobel, Eregion

In the fey hours before dawn, Ealendil caresses her harp gently by the fire. She is alone, save from Nienorë sitting by herself a little behind her, writing or drawing, and Elvealin sleeping nearby.

Dearest Belegos,

I write to you from Mirobel to tell you that I have left the search company for Lorien. By the time you receive this letter, I will be crossing the Redhorn Pass.

Forgive me for departing so suddenly. I fear for the safety of those who are dear to me and Lorien itself. I am unmistakably called to return and I cannot ignore it.

“She came in with the wind from the south…I do not know what brings her here in such haste.”

“She does not seem keen on staying long either.”

The guards taking the night watch continued to speculate in hushed voices. There was usually nothing to entertain their conversations aside from the blank sky and empty grey landscape. Thus, the swift approach of one elf maiden was enough to stir their curiosity for that night.

*ting*ting*ting

As Lord Sinor kept working on the arrowheads Meiva continued attaching them with a body. Her hands were working automatically as her thoughts were away with Gwaeth-en-Cuvallorn, order of the arrow. It was long passed since they mustered in the ruins of Echad Candelleth, the last time she had seen her fellows together. The flow of her thoughts changed direction to the recent news about the rallying Dunlendings in the east which she wouldn’t believe their numbers if it wasn’t her own eyes …

Fire. Burnt wood, turned into charcoal in a blaze of energy. How it should have warmed, yet the flickering of the flames could not pry away the feeling of dread. The night over the once fruitful and lively land had come and gone, leaving its guests scurrying to prepare breakfast, feed the horses and plan for the morrow.