Vanimar

She was standing on the balcony of the Last Homely House, feeling the wind on her face and leaning on the railing. She was there when she wanted to think things through alone, since lately the Hall of Fire had been rather heated and full of crowd, sending the Elves of Vanimar the the fields of battle.

Laurelindo was sitting in the middle of his own bags, a simple tent standing around him... So simple actually that it was ready to fall after not even 2 hours. He would have to do it properly in the morning... If he or anyone else really cared about it at the time that is.

His mind was replaying the day's events, beginning with the assembly of those who left Imladris that day :

We stood upon the city walls, looking eagerly to the east for the rising of the sun. Most folk were quietly awaiting the Gates of Summer, though there was a subdued chatter, and merry laughter amongst some of the children. I remember smiling at a nearby group, recalling when I had been that small, and that eager.

Berion nudged me and grinned. 'That was us barely fifty years ago?'

Laurelindo was sitting at his desk, eyes lost on, but not really seeing, the piece of parchment he has been darkening with his handwriting. A tired sigh escaped him while his thoughts went in circle, darker and darker. 

The fire joyous crackling take him back to the present time. He sighted one more time and came to read again his letter to his long time friend :

"To Failindo,