I heard a knock on my door and when I opened it, my uncle Fëamíril was behind it since he had finally arrived from Lothlórien. We has down for a cup of tea and to talk about a thing or few. He asked me why I hadn’t painted for such a long time, but the reason it something that I’m not willing to openly admit yet. ”I need more pratise,” I answered. ”No artist is truly ever finished and perfect.” It was vague, but it was also true and something that I believed in, also for myself.
Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/
Varda
