hawk

    You can never truly return home after leaving. No matter how long your time spent there, or the moments you experienced, or the memories you made...time, heartless bastard that it is, alters all: your shape no longer fits the imprint you left behind. 

An excerpt taken from the memoirs of Aradil, an Elf of the Avorrim:

There are those among my kin with the patience to observe the steady changing of the tides and the passing of uneventful days. They gracefully accept this lonely exile without question: Lord Círdan commanded us, and we obey, hidden in caverns along the shore within easy distance of the ruins of once-beautiful Edhellond. 

(( The title is a nod to the song "Carry On My Wayward Son" by the band Kansas, and that is a good companion to this piece. Character death ahead. ))

(( Might delete later. >.> ))

A letter written on fine Elven parchment, sent from Rivendell by carrier hawk. The penmanship is steady but not especially fine, and the spelling is mostly correct...

Dear

Dearest?

To Finchley,

It was the day of the big attack on the Dourhand docks. Hawk woke early, but even still Xan was already gone, no doubt mustering their odd assortment of warriors and making last minute preparations. Dressing and putting on his light leather armour, simple and not exactly well-fitted, he gathered his weapons and rode to the meeting place. The cold wind stung his face and eyes and blew back his wild hair and Hawk relished in the last quiet moments he was likely to experience that day.