Lusseriel was sitting on the branch of a tall tree, her bag tied to another branch near her. Her notebook was on her laps, and she felt lucky it was a clear night that day.

“Today was… It was.

Egfor lay awake, unable to sleep this night. Tonight was a night he lay awake due to being plagued by worries and anxieties. He closed his eyes and listened to the soft, relaxed breathing of the man next to him. He rolled onto his side, pressing himself against Idh's back, wrapping his arms around him. He presses his face into the crevice of his neck and shoulder, inhaling his comforting scent.

He closed his eyes, sighing softly. He wondered why Idh picked him. Worry and doubt began to gnaw away at him. 

In a peaceful glade in the woods, there is a little wooden house. And in that little wooden house there is a dim room. And in that dim room is a stone hearth. And in that stone hearth there is nothing. Nothing but a cold emptiness and lonely space. In front of that nothingness sits... a man? Or perhaps an elf if one was to take a closer look. That one lone figure sits still, eyes open but boring into the empty hearth. 

Egfor slowly pulled his arm out from under Idhrandir, kissing the man's cheek carefully before sliding out of bed, careful not to wake him up. He pushes himself up to stand, quickly and quietly moving to get dressed before his lover woke up. 

EGFOR!

You should learn to write more often, silly boy. We have ALL been waiting for a letter with baited breath. I know you aren't much of a man of words, but come now! I shared your letter with the other three. It took all three of us to hold Cwen down from riding off to meet you and your love. You need to write us a letter or perhaps a novel or two telling us about him. We are begging you! Write to us more about the Inn and your friends! We want to know!

Dearest Ealhwyn,

How are you? How are your children and husband. I have settled well in Bree-land. I haven't found a plot of land to work, however I have taken up more or less permanent residence at this lovely roadside Inn called the Hammer and Harp. I often bounce between there, the Prancing Pony Inn and a small Hunter's lodge in a place called Far Chetwood. 

Selfish. Uncompromising. A ruiner of integrity.

Weaponize, weaponize, weaponize.