Preparations for the move

The familiar chambers of the Repository, once calm and quiet, were now buzzing with life. The new scribes had been recruited from all over Eriador in an attempt to make it more open. There were Men, Hobbits and Dwarves running around with books and parchments alongside the longtime Elf scribes. The changes to the ancient policies had not gone through without complaints, and many scribes had left.

Sometimes, Calenon thought that this might have been too big for his first decision as Keeper of the Scrolls, but so far it was working out. He'd traveled far from his home of Imladris, to search for potential scribes from among the younger races, finding many colourful characters along the way.

There was his friend, Hamlock, rummaging around in a chest near the backroom office. He'd known the old Hobbit for a long time, at least by their standards. A chance encounter in The Shire near Woodhall many years ago had led to an unorthodox friendship. He was the obvious first choice when time came to recruit new scribes.

He was a loyal friend, someone to count on to aid the work of the Repository without ulterior motives. He was currently busy organising the contents of the archives for the move west.

Calenon looked to his right, at the woman barking at a couple of scribes. With all the commotion, it was unclear what they'd done, but Kendrah was giving them quite a scolding for it either way. He'd recruited her in a tavern in a town called Bree, although he still couldn't say what had prompted him to do so.

She was sharp and intelligent, for sure, but her manners were.. lacking. And she did not have experience with scribe work, although neither did most of the other newcomers. There was just something about her, something that showed promise, and Calenon always trusted his intuition.

Sitting on the floor on the other side of the room was a man, carefully handling a number of paintings and drawings, holding them up against the light before packing them neatly in boxes. Kheith had been easy to recruit, this seemed to be exactly what he had been looking for. An artist by trade, putting him in charge of collecting and protecting works of art was a given choice.

Then there was the Dwarf, Dugrinn. Calenon had found him in Thorin's Hall, bored out of his mind. His son had ran off somewhere, and he was feeling quite useless. The guard didn't need his help apparently, and he jumped at the opportunity at travel, even if it was from an Elf.

Calenon sighed and went to sit down at his desk, there was much to be done before moving west. Anything could happen on the way, and they needed to be prepared.