Aelaer

What a grand night it was. She thought back of the warmth in the Halls, how old friends had come and enjoyed a glass of wine and reminisced about the past adventures had. A night of poetry, music and good food.

Himwen turned around. The round room was mildly lit with candles and the fireplace harboured a mellow fire. The flames licked the bottom of a black small cauldron as though it hungered for the contents puttering above.

She looked at the chair next to the fireplace. He had been resting in it for a long time, but thankfully he was now walking around the valley. She sighed of relief, thankful that he was on the mend. The wounds had been great, but he was a hardy soldier. An ellon with determination to survive.

A sudden stumble and a lunge forward made a disastrous idea. Only the reflexes of a trained warrior prevented a crash into the polished metal pane serving as a mirror. Sinking eyebrows and a resolute “Hmpf!” uttered before returning to the previous position. How long had she been practicing now? And how come a simple movement such as the most common dance performed in the Halls of Elrond would best someone like Himwen? Granted, she was not the best warden around, but she had her moments of accuracy and grace on guard, protecting the ones left behind.