Brasseniel

Not a trace was left of the scout that disappeared, except a few drops of blood on the snow.

A hasty answer was, therefore, required to this urgent message. Lord Ambassador Parnard leaned back in his chair and gazed up at the ceiling for several minutes before reading the message again. He liked to avoid hasty answers whenever he could: they often resulted in errors of judgment.

The door to the armoury was thrown open with a force that rattled it on its hinges, startling Ararusco into dropping his charcoal pencil.  It rolled over his careful notes and fell to the flagstones with a clatter.  He turned in annoyance to see who had made such a noisesome entrance and was met with the sight of a furious dark-haired maiden approaching him.

“What is this I hear about you refusing to teach my sister to fight?”

We gathered at the appointed place, at the appointed time, and I uttered a few words of encouragement, as some faces seemed a little pale and anxious. I said how it will suit the rest of our noble House, and our Lord Anglachelm’s high authority, if we learned the art of defense and fighting. Then I said how advantage favors the well-practiced hand, and it would please me to see one or two of our Order strike a solid blow above the girdle.

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

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

Brasseniel was still humming the last song of the night under her breath as she let herself into the room. It had been a lovely evening of music and dancing with others of Bar-en-Vanimar, practicing their steps for the Yule Ball.  She was sad that it ever had to end.  

She found Nelthiel curled up in a chair by the fire, cooing over a soft ball of fur in her lap.  A kitten?  When and where had her sister found herself a kitten?  Brasseniel had to wonder how long it would take for her to fill their rooms with every stray that Imladris had to offer.

Laurelindo was enjoying a slow morning at home. The weather outside was fair, however the elf was inside, an open book on his lap, writing supply on the nearby table. ​

"The day yesterday was... fantastic. 

Well, fantastically boring, with the exception of two meetings. 

Brasseniel did not realize she was alone until she was halfway down the hill.  She stopped and whipped around to look behind her, blue-grey eyes flashing with annoyance.

"Nelthiel!" she snapped.  "What do you think you are doing?"

There was her sister, sitting on a rocky outcrop near the top of the hill, a bundle of grey fur in her lap and an expression of stubborn determination on her face.  

"Resting!"