Veryacano

Sir,

Parnard looked over the receipt, comparing it to the lot just delivered. Supplies for seven at least: too many elves, Lord Anglachelm said. He imagined a squeaking wagon creeping across a muddy, rutted road carrying the load of barrels and crates. How secure were the roads leading south?

'The roots are good if they be broken and drunken for them that spit blodd and are bursten.'

After leaving the first aid lecture given by Laurelindo, Veryacano chased after Sergeant Ancalasse with tall steps in the corridors of the Last Homely House. ''Sergeant!'' he yelled after him. Recognizing the Hammer Lord's furious voice, Sergeant immediately halted and stood at attention before turning about and saluting sharply. ''Did I not order the troops to attend the lecture today?'' Hammer Lord questioned him. Ancalasse was already sweating. ''You did, sir.'' he answered lowly.

A comforting sense of forgetfulness was draped over him like a shroud; drowning out all fears and all questions in a warm and dark embrace. Yet it was not a sense of peace that filled his limited perception, for peace is a state of being that is dependent upon the existence of another, alternative state. Without war or conflict what meaning does the word peace have? Perhaps then oblivion would be correct; an absence of all sensation except darkness. Although despite the emptiness around him, not all was still and silent.

Parnard turned away from the letter and glared out the window at the fading daylight. I cannot recommend her too highly, he thought. Although Limiriel  had gained his confidence in this matter of Estarfin, what part she played in his rescue, he had no idea. Something about the spear-maiden unnerved him, and this letter she wrote him was bordering on rudeness.

My Lord,

An Ambassador's credit and influence depend wholly upon his character, and as this was above the temptations of the profits annexed to his position of power, it put him in a condition to give rather than to receive. Parnard never forgot a kind word, or help kindly given.

Once again I find myself on the road with a search party to find an elf. He’s called Themodir, is of the Order of the Hammer and he betrothed to a lady living in Imladris and that is all I know of him.

I didn’t plan to leave this time.

First, I’ve asked lord Estarfin to train me at least a little so that I have something else than survival instinct and the knowledge that, no, taking a sword or a knife by the blade is NOT a good idea to rely on when I need it.

Second, I also have duties in Imladris and I didn’t want to leave it all behind.

"It was a very close contest," remarked the Lord Ambassador. He had returned to his usual place in the Hall of Fire, beside Sogadan, and was of the proud belief that he had averted a national catastrophe.