Vanimar

The weather was turning colder outside. As the door to her office slowly shut, the chill breeze weezled its way inside, perhaps to find warmth where there was little. Though the crackling fire had just been restoked by one of the servants of the house, the house of the Pillar seemed to keep its inhabitants fresh. Tingruviel insisted that she should do it herself, but the attempt had been refuted by Sorontar. A lady and an ambassador tending to her own fire? Unheard of, he had said.

The Hall of Fire in the evening of the gathering was well attended by representatives of Bar En Vanimar and others from beyond the vale. Khalis was pleased to see many of his long standing friends and allies in the hall of whom many he had a great deal of respect for. As with each and every time he intruded upon such gatherings he was enamoured by the beauty of the fabric and detail upon the dresses worn by the ladies which only added to their own radiance.

I stand upon a hill, overlooking the river Lhûn. Down below, within its swirling waters, a number of ships carrying the banners of Loth-i-Lonnath waving in the wind, lies anchored at the docks of Thamas Lorn; and like great white swans they ride the streams, only awaiting the moment to spread their wings and take flight towards the north. For that is where the herth is going, to meet dangers unknown, but this time, I'm not going with them.