Rivendell

The day was full to say the least: wandering in an extremely hot hall, observing some of the people that were in there. I even saw a couple of ‘followers’. There are mortals even here? Strange…well, it did not surprise me too much. Not all of those strange people followed my kind around like wolves; some remained for a bit, and then vanished. They were their own people; they were not pets. I guess that seems to have changed, many ages later…

Rivendell... We've never been here for so long, [Rothrian]] and I, away from everything. We decided to remain in peace for a little while, seeing that things changed since the last time we were around. The Black Steel is on hold for the moment, as we are enjoying our quiet time together here in the Elven land. We are planning to travel further in the South if things are well.

Second Age; beginning of the year 1717, in Imladris…

The main gem for a cloak clasp was nearly done…the intricate detail and great effort put into the jewel was not hard to miss. Undómion did not want to stop; enjoying making it the best it could possibly be. There was nothing left to improve, and instead of leaving it be, the Noldo kept looking for ways to further improve it.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“Go away.” Undómion grunted.

Second Age; 1716, a week after the encounter…

Undómion had a sense of paranoia about leaving his Talan, and remained on the platform within the Mallorn. He felt humiliated. How could he be bested by this one maid?

“You have the looks of a love-struck elf.”

‘No, I do not! So much happened too fast…the forest is enchanted!’ “Perhaps.”

The forest was special in its own way…even the inhabitants. Still, he should have at least kept composure when saying his name.

Nelnardis took a long mouthful from the bottle of wine. She was sitting on the grass behind her house in Imladris. Not bothering to replace the cork, she set down the green bottle, focusing her attention on the journal on her lap.