My dearest sisters; Ealhwyn, Cwenthryth, Leofgifu, and and Sigeburg,

I wish I was writing under better circumstances. I am departing for a foul place called Angmar. It is a foul place wherein evil forces reside. An elf I have befriended, his husband is held prisoner there. We are going to rescue him. My stomach fills with dread and I am nauseous when I think about this. I have no idea what awaits me in there, and I know I will not return the same man. I love all of you very dearly. I will write as soon as we return, expect a reply within a week or two from this one... Hopefully.

The letter is neatly folded, the visible side only being labeled with "For Ninimil" in small script. It sits atop the heavy covers decorating a certain patron's bed, presumably having been left there while the room was empty. Once unfolded, the page shows a carefully written note, the handwriting hinting it was written by a scholarly type or someone who has sent one too many letters.

The rain was so pleasant. It drummed upon the roof with a sound like a great, purring beast in the sky. It turned the stable into a haven, a refuge. A hideout. She could smell the dampness through the familiar scents of straw and manure. It made these other fragrances richer in her nostrils, and as she lay on her belly in the hayloft, gazing out over the rows of stalls below, she sneezed. 

Calidis nodded, glancing at Xanderian, who was watching the scholar Selunae with a mix of horror and wonder. 'And who is this mistress of The Masked? Does she have no name? Are there any among those who reside here who could do such a thing? Or has she come from outside of this Valley?'

Mortals:  A Case Study (On the Topic of Futility)

Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon

44 Quellë in the Reckoning of Imladris          

Ryn had been feeling a weight growing on her shoulders since the party had entered the cave, for a moment it seemed she wasn't in the cave. Instead she was on another bridge... One lined with red robed figures speaking in hushed tones as they slowly walk towards a familiar tower. A heavy iron collar weighs her down, Is this memory or a vision of the future?