Vanimar

Laurelindo was enjoying a slow morning at home. The weather outside was fair, however the elf was inside, an open book on his lap, writing supply on the nearby table. ​

"The day yesterday was... fantastic. 

Well, fantastically boring, with the exception of two meetings. 

Lothelian swung the door open and slid into her seat at the dinner table, smiling delightedly as delicious smells wafted out of the kitchen. She could see Ada arranging some food on a platter, and Nana slicing bread in the adjourning room. Folding her napkin neatly upon her plate, she looked around for any sign of her older sister, fiddling absently with the pale pink quartz crystal in her pocket.

The hall of Durin's Folk was filled with delegations from far and wide, Elves, Hobbits, Dwarrows and Men. Lord Duinn presented the Trader's Banquet as the platform for secure trade in Eriador highlighting the establishment of the Durin's Folks Trading Company wirth outposts in Zigilgund and Othrikar.

All were welcome to join in relations and trade opportunities, and many were eager to begin. The outposts offered vast reserves of silver, gold and iron, which all were interested in as war became ever more apparent in all lands near and far.

Dolthafaer twirled an arrow in his hands, keen grey eyes flickering in the light of the fire as he examined the fletching – one white feather, two speckled brown.  Satisfied with the spacing, he took up a length of thin sinew and began to bind the feathers to the shaft.  A quiverful of arrows was already stacked neatly on the floor beside him, but his mind was full tonight and the familiar task helped him think. 

The past few weeks had been long and exhausting. By some miracle, Belethoriel's party did not run out of supplies, and made it to Gath Forthnír alive, though spent and battered. Though Cúrandir had sustained no serious wounds, some of his comrades were not so lucky. Their healer, Laurelindo, had fussed over the injured, and became very irritated when some, like their quartermaster Ancalasse, refused to admit they needed treatment.

The darkness settled, thick and cloying, over the rocky cliffs guarding the entrance to the Rift. Huddled in a cleft below the bluffs with the rest of the party, Cú​randir drew his cloak about himself tighter as the chill night wore on. Close behind him came the raspy breathing of the two warriors he and the others had rescued - Themodir and Belorion. He had not expected that they would make it this far, when he had decided to join Belethoriel and his company in Gath Forthnir.

“They still have prisoners in the mines. The Rift of Nûrz Ghâshu.”

It was then that Dolthafaer started to believe that he would meet his end in Angmar.

Uilossiel rushed into her room, a giddy smile on her face. Twirling in front of her mirror, she fell onto her bed and buried her face in her pillows before letting out a joyous scream. Footsteps sounded outside in the corridor as her mother opened the door, clad in a dressing gown and slippers.

“Why, Uilossiel, it is late in the evening. Try to remember that some of us are resting, for the sake of decency,” Tinuilos admonished sleepily.

Cheeks flushing, Uilossiel nodded. “Yes, Naneth. Good-night.”