Tyulusse

The lavenders poked their pale petals through the arrangement of green herbs, among which they nestled themselves. From their many vantage points around the room, laid over tables, draped over shelves, they spread their light scent throughout the room, welcoming everyone with a peaceful atmosphere as they entered.

Once again alone in his workroom, Laurelindo was smiling, in a very good mood, though, not in the mood to work... again. This day was proving being a very unproductive day when he was concerned. 

Eregion, A Lifetime Ago

Tyulussë took one of the plants from the basket and passed it on to his companion.

“This is called yarrow.”

It was a pretty thing, small snow-white flowers clustered at the end of a long leafy stem.  The other elf hesitated a moment before taking it, and then simply stared at it, clearly wondering why he was being asked to hold the flower. 

“Oh.”

“Easy enough to find.  The flowers may be yellow as well.”

A crisp breeze wafted up to the higher branches of the tree where Luthelian sat with her legs bent and a leather-bound notebook on her lap. This particular notebook looked as common as any other – no fancy linings or gilt edges – but the owner had taken the liberty to sketch upon its leather surface, all sorts of unrelated images and elvish in all possible directions, that it was quite impossible to guess which cover was the front and in which direction the notebook should be held.

Valanya, the 6^th day of Hrivë

Menelya, the 53^rd day of Quellë

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.