Anglachelm

Parnard twisted the paper in his clenched hand. I will be far away by the time you read this – it began apologetically, and ended with the strictness of admonitions not to follow. How was he going to explain this fresh madness to Lord Anglachelm?  He crumpled the letter up.  Lady Danel could do what she liked, as she always did.

My Lord,

“And what of the wine order?” asked Parnard.

“It arrived, complete and unbroken. You are drinking some of it now.”

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.

This day I came to the Bridge, hard by the Spire of Meeting, where my retinue gathered. There I saw three of the Fountain’s guards, with shields and spears in their hands, and beside them stood my clerk Sorontar, who carried a stack of papers, and was dressed all in somber black cloth, as if he were part of a mourning procession.

My Lord,

The door swung upon and Parnard strode into the room. He was dressed more formally this day, in flowing robes dyed a blue so deep that it was almost black, wearing a delicate silver diadem that glinted on his brow.

“What might be the date?” he asked, pushing aside a stack of papers.

Meanwhile, as Belethoriel and his men continued their search for the missing Themodir, Parnard kept himself very busy.

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.

There are moments in your life when miss someone so much, you just want to pluck them from your dreams and embrace them for real...