Norliriel

Manadhlaer sighed, not for the first time that day, or that hour. She dipped her quill and made another attempt:

It has been widely known since the Elder Days that the sap of an unopened poppy...

Instantly she stopped and put a line through her words. "If it has been widely known," she said aloud, "why write it at all?" One of her delicate silken slippers, as light as an Elfling's first breath, had already gone. She kicked the other against the far wall of her office and began again.

Daeruth felt as though she had become useful again, since being ostracised for mushroom picking and accused of treasure seeking in some ruins that scout Filegris asked her to stay away from, Hiril Tingruviel had requested she attend Lady Ealendil and Master Maedhrathin at the old school of Mirobel, the pair were wed and Daeruth let them chatter about inconsequential things while she studied the scraps of old knowledge for anything of interest, seperating to cover more area each spent time making notes, moving further into what she assumed was an old master's room or assembly h

Nandutiriel did not need to keep watch over her sleeping comrades -- not even the gentle ones, híril Norliriel and the mysterious Elloen -- for plenty of sentinels with bows, even at night, peered down hawkishly and roamed the stones of Echad Mirobel.

Yet she could no more have rested than she could have flapped her arms and flown like Elloen's beautiful white eagle. Her mind was awhirl.

Greetings my Lord Anglachelm,

I would like you to know that we wish to take a journey to Eregion for a few reasons for what has transpired in the past few days. One is Lady Himwen wishing to train her recruits there. The other is quite personal to me.

I heard a knock on my door and when I opened it, my uncle Fëamíril was behind it since he had finally arrived from Lothlórien. We has down for a cup of tea and to talk about a thing or few. He asked me why I hadn’t painted for such a long time, but the reason it something that I’m not willing to openly admit yet. ”I need more pratise,” I answered. ”No artist is truly ever finished and perfect.” It was vague, but it was also true and something that I believed in, also for myself.