Eira's mother was alive.

Eira's mother was here.

Eira's mother loved her.

Eira's mother was happy that she had abandoned Mordor.

Eira awoke from her sleep in Nimraph's arms. Adjusting herself a bit, cuddling closer to him, Eira looked back on her emotionally charged yesterday. She had opened up to Egfor and his mother, Gwawrr, about some of the painful parts of her life in Gorgoroth. Then when they returned to Demlemoth's Estate, she was startled by the sudden appearance of her mother.

Egfor was unable to sleep due to the heat. He lay there for a while, unsure if Dem was awake or asleep. His breathing was slow and deep, so he assumed asleep. He slowly rolled out of bed, throwing open the windows to let a breeze and the moonlight filter in. 

((written in charcoal in Westron))

To Ristiinnä, Lumi-väki, care of the Prancing Pony, Bree.

((written in charcoal in Lumi-kieli, in two different hands))

"Oh, hullo! What's a little deer like you doing here?"

Indeed, it certainly was rare for such an animal to be sighted in Tuckborough. In Buckland, maybe, but not here! The young hobbit curiously stared at the deer, which didn't at all seem alarmed by her presence.

It was foredawn in Imloth Melui. The eastern sky was already glowing red, and the stone buildings and statues of the town were colored purple.

 Being a letter from Applecider Bolingbroke, to Lancogard North-Took, Deputy-Shirriff of the Northfarthing – Salutations, and all me respects to the honorable Bounders: May their paperwork forever be minimal.

Entering the estate, Eira trudged in with a thick coat of sweat hanging on her frame, further worsened by the loose and comfortable, yet heavy and hot robe she wore. She sighed, scuffing her shoes as she walked through the building, a feeling of idleness and loneliness marinating inside.