Sorontar

Knock, knock, knock. The tough wooden door made a ringing sound in the otherwise bare stone tower. It smelled like dust, as if very few would visit this part of the Pillar hall. It would be a correct assumption, of course. Hardly anyone would be let in to see the swallows, owls or hawks kept within, but its very dedicated keeper. Which seemed to not be in at the moment.

A clean cloth. Or what used to be a clean cloth. It was now covered with dust. The whole room smelled like distant memories, as if someone had not occupied the space for a long time. And it was true. It had stood empty for a while now.

She had taken it upon herself to clean it, as it felt like desecration of a holy place to let someone else in. She knew it was folly, of course. The lady Danel had left for the Havens, and would not return. But the idea that she might one day reappear kept Tingruviel busy tidying the space.

Tingruviel turned the document over and stared at the blank page. As she faced the front again, her expression turned rather sour. An artifact lost to the city of Gondolin, supposedly in the hands of... dwarrow. How could that be? And more to the point, where was it now? In some cave, supposedly. The scout had reported guards at the gate, a multitude of them. Enough that he would not be able to pass through without notice. She frowned, it would have been so easy to just slip inside and take it, if it were not for... No. They had to do it in a different manner.

Somehow things had changed. Friends were bidding farewell, for different reasons. As she watched some of them leave the valley through the open window, all she could hope for them was that their journey would bring them someplace safe.

She took a short step forward towards the vacant desk below the window. Her dress forbade any wider movements. The grey and gold silk robe she had worn for such a long time felt heavy like armour. Would she have need of it? She smirked, thinking she should stop wearing mouse-like raiment and perhaps clothe herself in more vivid colours.

All the day long doing work, writing over list after list by my own hand, because when Sorontar finished it, by mistake I laid hold of the inkpot and not the sandbox, and almost blotted out the accounts. This put Sorontar into a hurried sort of fit, and I grew worried for his sake, so I said I would copy it again for him.