randir

Randir, my friend and son-in-spirit,

Tip. Tap. Tip. Tap
A breathless footfall on the cool marble. In the eerie silence, it resonated within the hall.
Creak.
The door opened wide and the Elf-maiden stared into the sunny sky.
Rustle.

Once I went out on a merchant ship. A useful exercise for any of our family, even the girls, my grandfather said. Two days were enough for a child of the groves like me. Before we were out of sight of the land a summer squall blew up. The ship pitching and yawing. 

On sprinted the Noldo-maiden toward the Camp of Ruidhriel. Her true intent known to none but herself, she smiled in the rising light.

Minyelaire kept her hood down in her face. She stood rather relaxed there before him, like a crimson figure, a wraith of dread, light reflects on her from the snow, ltting her glow in a terribly light. Daerundros, in her horror, looked down to see her fallen companion being cornered by the hooded face.

<This note is rather crudely written and appears to have many grammatical-and spelling mistakes.>