Vanimar

Dolthafaer wrinkled his nose in distaste at the sharp scent of the balm as he rubbed it into his shoulder, the large bruise there as bright a purple as the tunics he tended to wear to gatherings in the Hall of Fire.  The balm and the bruise both were gifts from Sargiel, a fellow recruit of the Hammer with whom he had taken up training.  The lady fought very well; she was young, but had apparently been born with a sword in one hand and a shield in the other.  It had been a long time since he had had such an excellent sparring partner. 

Humming contentedly to herself, Uilossiel dipped her quill in the inkpot and began to write. She sat at her finely carved oak desk, gazing from time to time out of the window which overlooked the valley. Since she had returned to Imladris from Lindon, she felt complete somehow, as if there was a piece of her that had always remained in the Valley and had just slid back into place.

Aldúya, the 46th day of Tuilë, year 3008 of the Third Age.

Laurelindo was at home, sitting near the little pool, harp in a side, writing supply on his laps, writing :

'Yesterday was the trial, finally. It has been long in coming…

The trial was long and, despite the seriousness of the crimes and of the situation, it was quite… Entertaining. Between the famous argument of : 'Feanor did that, why can't we also… ?' and other liberties taken by the defendants, much to their attorney's despair I believe… Really it was entertaining.

Your Majesty,

“It is not your place to command me, I am free to stay or go by my own will!” Galuoneth spoke the words with a certainty that she did not feel, not when faced with the grim Noldor before her. Estarfin stood to the fore, dressed in a thick leather apron, carrying a heavy hessian sack over one shoulder, a wooden case of tools in his other hand. To his left stood Ruineth, dressed in a tabard of thick suede, turned almost black from long years spent before the forge.

When I woke up at Echad Eregion, I recalled a thing that Elvealin had told me before we departed. She and Feahelka had seen the Dunlending trying to establish a camp near Gwingris. There is some time of that but I still thought that the Lords present would appreciate the information, and so I told them.

It has been quite a long time since I was at home, and it shows. Or at least it did until I dusted and cleaned up the place.

Now I am lazily enjoying, in peace and safety, a glass of wine with a warm fire in the living room, my instruments all cared for and at their usual places. I am quite sure no one will need my skill in the minute, either as a minstrel or as a healer.

Am I lazy to think so and enjoy it ? Tonight, yes.

At last Lord Anglachelm has been found! We ran after the enemy a long way, all the way from Enedwaith to Dunland, Rohan, and from Lórien to Mirkwood where he was, and here we are, back in beloved Lórien. A certain nameless Elf who he apparently knew was to be thanked for helping us to find him.