Ithilwë

“Kill him like you did the other elf, and send the ribbon to his bitch.”

A small blue velvet box has been left on the polished table along with a hastily scrawled note. The note is contained below.

Warning: Could be slightly graphic for some. 

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Our scouting mission through the Lone Lands has now become more than I every could have imagined. We have been on the road for weeks. Sir Ioranir has been on his own mission, to find those that raised him. As for Amathlan, he was to learn of those who we were tracking, the Sons of Burzum. These two missions have carried us all the way from Bree, to Evendim. But now we rest in a village, far to the north of Forochel.

Some time after the return from Forochel; Imladris, Third Age.

We all quickly gathered, hidden, to watch the scene and decide what our course would be. We watched as one of the men wandered off the side of the hill, seemingly having heard something. When he returned, it was with a man, but not one of their own. 

This man, as we would later come to learn his name, was Ioranir One of the Lossoth, but also known to our company.

We did not stay at the inn for long. Just long enough to make sure the others of the company left and returned as quick as possible to the company house. Amathlan returned to Bree with them, to gather up more bodies. Though we were only scouting, it was best for more of us to be there in case something went wrong.

We were not given much time to think on what was occurring betweein Sir Furley, Lady Daphnee and the other man.

Our venture into Waymeet has finally ended. It has been nice to have been in the Shire. It is a much needed haven from the rest of this world. The company all gathered in the center of the small town. A few of our company went off to scout other roads, while most of us filed into formation to begin our journey back to Bree. 

Furley sat down shortly after they left, sighing as he mentioned how worn out the danger earlier had made him feel. And she, Daphne, could see that on his face as she bent to take her helmet from the ground. 

It is freezing and I can not find enough warmth to be able to sleep. Even with the fire blazing, I feel cold as ice. Amathlan is sleeping not too far away. I am glad he is asleep, for he needs it more than I do. 

The memories of the words that I said to him flit through my mind.

If you do not temper your anger, you will those you love....You will lose me."