Vanimar

Songs and poetry:The soldier

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

For Kin, Lord and Duty, for Justice or around her,
A step, then one more, a hit and a counter
You shatter in pain and fall to a knee
Is it of anger or blood the curtain you  see?

But defeated is only the one who stays down!
While breathing, stand up, uphold your renown!
Don't die in a way that you learned to condemn
You stand up, brace yourself and go back at THEM!

Fencing with Estarfin : Round One

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

 

He needed answers. He needed some clarity, and so did I. What did I want from him?

~ ~ ~

In the Service of the Grey Lady

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

It was not, as such things went, a terribly dramatic meeting. Manadhlaer had taken her mare for a walk, as she did regularly at the advice of the horse-expert Nenrildë -- and while Milkthistle was a game creature and held her head high, the rider felt the weariness of the beast as if it were her own. She would need pasturing soon, and a retirement from adventure.

Coming the other way, toward the Hall of the Pillar, was Glorfingwë in his pale blue robes. Both reined in their horses and hailed each other.

Live music and dancing at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: Event screen

Live music and dancing at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party

Theatrical Play at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: Event screen

Theatrical Play at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party. BRAVO!

Elf-ladies are dancing at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party

What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: Event screen

Elvealin, Manadhlaer and Olriandis dancing the night away at The Hobbitry's Annual Yule Party

Privacy and Cookies Statement

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

It had been a long and tiring year for both Manadhlaer and Curulinn, including, on one memorable occasion, both simultaneously. Snow lay on the High Moor, and while it seemed like autumn yet lingered in the Vale, Turuhalmë had just passed. Someone had gifted the healers a large supply of the sweet biscuits charmingly referred to as "cookies" by i Pheriannaith, the Shire-folk, and Manadhlaer's wine-cellar was legendary -- if somewhat diminished since Lord Anglachelm had spent a night in it.

The Guilty Party

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Sarmëtecil was a Noldë, and proud, as such folk are wont to be, but even she trembled slightly before the stare of the Lady of the Pillar. "It is true, my lady. Great heaps of log-books are simply missing -- erm, not to be found at this time." She ran a finger under the collar of her burgundy tabard, which now seemed uncomfortably tight.

"What," Manadhlaer began, but fortified herself with a swig of tea before she continued. "Do you mean. Missing."

"It is our hope that in time, we may locate --"

Long Considered

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Winter was coming to the valley, that much was clear by the crisp night air, and the increasingly fleeting hours of daylight. The brown, red and gold leaves had mostly fallen from the trees; only the pines still held onto their greenery in the face of the relentless march of the seasons.

 

The Great Formation

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

It was not that, as she removed a stack of hairpins, Manadhlaer thought anything had gone particularly wrong at the Ball. Indeed, at times the dance-floor had been an impenetrable Huorn-forest of bodies through which she simply could not struggle hard enough to reach the other side of the room.

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