High Moors

To leave the valley of Rivendell was to leave the warmth and safety of the elven enclave in one fell swoop. Autumn rain greeted Kennet on the High Moor, wetting the damp ground and making passage through the wilderness difficult.

Kennet had to ask again to understand what elf Canaddal was telling him. In his serene and distant voice, the elf repeated his words again:

Braigion had many days to be left alone with his prize. He collected enough wood to begin to cook the bear meat, and there was plenty of hide to make repairs (somewhat) to his torn clothing and perhaps make new ones…if he could find the necessary equipment. He took some of the bear’s teeth and managed to tie knots in his poofed up hair to keep them in place. Braigion had enough meat as well to have his fill…for a normal elf that is, but the Avar was still famished.

((There is more to this that is yet to happen. I will add another chat log when it does happen. Leading in with '...' and ending with '...' with one tab in means a chat log is in between each of those periods))

          I awoke to the soft sound of rain pattering on my cloth tent. As I arose, the early morning sun was just creeping over the horizon, and I felt reassured about my current task. It has been 5 months since my last entry in my journal, concerning Forochel, and now again I set off to ensure the stability of the land.