Order of the Arrow

A note given to Filegris for the eyes of Arradril:

My Bow-Bending Colleague,

The sorrows of the Eldar may be never-ending, but receiving your missive lessened my particular sorrow upon its reading.

I thank you for your kind words on the occasion of my oath-taking. Yours was a face I would have enjoyed seeing at the ceremony, but the nature of duty being what it is - and one I understand and fully endorse - I took no offence by your absence.

This note was found on Branalph's pillow the night following his Oath-taking, in which he became a full member of Vanimar. It was placed next to a leaf wrapped around half a dozen wafers of lembas.

Aiya Varandalqua!

Long had Arradril been thinking -- or so it seemed to her -- over the question of what sort of gift she might find or make for Branalph, survivor of the ruin of Nargothrond and lately recruit of the Order of the Hammer. It was merely polite, after all. He had given her the pretty purple feather that reminded her of younger days. So etiquette, for surely that was all that it was, would seem to demand some sort of token in return.

At last Arradril and Filegris had a rest period at the same time, and accordingly flopped down by the side of a well-loved pond north-west of the Last Homely House. Filegris, who had meant merely to clear her head of the whirl of recent events, was startled and delighted when Arradril produced from her pack five apples -- red, but with a golden undertone that peeked out in little streaks, particularly at the top near the stem -- and some hard orange cheese. She divided the fifth apple into perfect halves and presented Filegris with half of her bounty.

Content of note slid under the door of Arrow Hall:

I am as intrigued by your wager and your offer of diversion as much as your bold attempt at stealth and the placement of your missive. I admit for a moment that I believed a serpent had nestled its way into my boot!

I doubt not your prowess with a bow; and am eager to see it firsthand. I am of a mind to let you bring down our quarry as to leave such matters to me and my hammer would result in overly-tenderized meat.

As you have correctly observed, it would be impossible for us to soon forget the cheese.

Arradril worked alone, as she normally preferred. Tonight's project was a sheath for her favorite boot dagger. The single-edged weapon was not her largest, nor her longest, nor yet was it her oldest -- so it was no painful reminder of fair Ondolindë. It was not even balanced for throwing; given the alarming upward curve of the blade, and the solid hiltward weighting, Arradril reckoned that any attempt to fling it would end in a loud thud.