Vanimar

Last night, there was much talk in the Hall of a band of Men encamped outside the Gate of the Valley, and some thought they were refugees, fleeing the darkness, and others thought them a group of roving bandits, and some thought they might be supplicants, messengers sent to ask for aid from Lord Elrond: arms, or stores of food, though I thought this year’s harvest a bountiful one, as there was plenty of rain and sunshine, in proper amounts.

Cúrandir flexed a wrist idly, staring out over the black void that yawned beneath him. Five or six other elves were gathered around on the ashen-grey bluff behind him, all talking in hushed voices. He glanced at the other archer standing guard for the company - Dolthafaer, he had said his name was. Cúrandir had to admit that the other ellon had a way with the bow that spoke of centuries more experience than even he possessed.

My father and I were seated on his balcony, which overlooks a portion of the valley and faces eastward towards the halls of Lord Elrond. Ada traced the graceful arches of the balustrade with an expert finger, pointing out how the leaves and vines carven upon it were influenced by Sindarin architecture, but how the underlying structure was drawn up and constructed with Noldorin precision.

Many things happened in very short time.

We are now in Angmar. The way to the doors of Angmar was... mostly peaceful surprisingly enough.

The day after we arrived, Ancalasse found us at the campsite. But then we separated. Lord Belethoriel went to the settlement of men, Aughaire. The rest of us went to find water.

It had been too long since she had taken up her harp. She had not touched it since the music contest after the Tourney, and that had been several enquiër ago, even before her second departure for Lindon.

Valanya, the 54th day of Lairë

          Uilossiel's eyes flickered up to the mirror hanging beside her bed.  She blinked incredulously at the reflection staring back at her -  raven hair pulled up in a formal knot, clad in a dress the colour of the summer sky,  and draped in a white-winged mantle. A new-kindled fire shone bright in her grey eyes, and she held her head with the pride of her father's people, a far cry from her usual unassuming, bookish manner.

The day… Well, it's a bad day I believe. Oh yes, it began well. Until the group heard about an elf possibly lost in the area where we saw the trolls when we arrived here. Then they left.

And they come back… With Failindo's body. He's dead. I have known him for so many years… Since the fall of Eregion, around 3000 years ago. He was my dearest friend and my family, as I was his.

We finally are in Lin Giliath. Our journey here was… in a way uneventful. Oh yes, Ancalasse has little to no pedagogic talents. But it's still fun to watch. I still don't know how to use a whetstone but I somehow don't think that I will really miss it.

Well… Do a dagger needs sharpening even if it's not used ? oh… I may have to ask someone here.

In any case, as Culufinnel asked for the thing, I gave it to him. My 'friend' (as Ancalasse said) was useless to me, so it could at least be useful for someone here.