Tolmen huffed becoming angrier than usual, the metal was too malleable to be useful, he tossed the tongs he was using into his forges cooling trough in a fury. 'Have to buy more now' he grumbled as he stomped away from the forge causing incredible pain in his game leg, grimacing he swept up his cloak and limped from his hall into the morning light, there were few folk around, and those that were swiftly made detours to avoid the seething Noldo, his ill temper was becoming legendary and when he got to the market the scrap metal dealer was reluctant to deal with him. Whilst browbeating the dealer into submission a musical voice chuckled behind him. "Hir Tolmen, ever the diplomat I see.". Tolmen turned to see the maiden Tuilérie stood smiling at him, Tolmen gave a respectful nod to Tuilérie and turned back to the merchant to continue his tirade, in the interim the merchant had wisely made a swift exit, so Tolmen turned back to Tuilérie "What brings you to the market at this hour Hiril?" , Tuilérie flushed at the honorific but answered nonetheless "I am picking up some supplies, I'm escorting some pilgrims into Eregion and I am going also for... personal reasons" Tuilérie looked down at the ground as though abashed at her own words. Tolmen considered the elleth's words "I see, and you need a competent blade at your side, I accept!" Tuilérie looked up surprised at the response of the grouchy old warrior before her, "Ohh.. very well Hir, we meet at the stables soon I'll send word when the pilgrims are on their way" Tuilérie bowed low and swiftly went on her way seeking out her own supplies from the morning market, Tolmen turned back to the trader to barter for his metal spying him hiding behind the counter, "Leave those, you heard the Hiril, I need supplies for several weeks!" and proceeded to harangue the merchant with a long list of requirements...
Back in his halls Tolmen went through his meagre belongings, a warrior didn't need much, his armour, his weapons, his lembas, his wine, more wine, Miruvor for emergencies, he went to the unlit fireplace and lifted a small casket of oakwood from the mantle with an exhausted sigh "I'll need you my friends". Opening the casket to reveal a pouch of beryls his friend Silwë had cut for him many yeni ago, he took one out and rolled it between his fingers, replacing it into the pouch, tying it and picking up the only other thing in the small casket, a stiff and cracked diary written in his own hand and tied over with a leather thong, Tolmen wiped the dust off and replaced it into the casket and shut the lid, he limped across the room to a darkened corner he rarely visited and took up a battered old travelling harp sighing "You get to come too" returning to the table and stuffing them into a saddlebag, hefting the saddlebags across his shoulder he exited, shutting the door and locking it and putting the key into an envelope along with a prewritten letter to his ward Cirtamir, he hobbled down to Silwë's forge knowing he wouldn't be there, but also knowing what must be done, leaving the envelope in a suitably safe place he continued on to the stables, seeing the scout Tuilérie awaiting there with her hunting dog Nolandur, he nodded a greeting and settled the saddlebags onto his roan stallion, checking over the horse while waiting for the company to be assembled, when the pilgrims arrived Tuilérie introduced him to Hundaquildo and Almanulde, after much small talk between the pilgrims and Tuilérie the scout decided on the route and the party proceeded to mount and get underway with Tuilérie leading and Tolmen guarding the rear.
High in the valley the group take one final look across the valley and turn towards the south passing the gate sentinels who breathe a sigh of relief as they notice with surprise that Tolmen is leaving the valley. After an uneventful days riding and much chatter from the excited pilgrims the fellowship camp in a sheltered spot within half a days ride and within sight of Gwingris.
not expecting trouble Tuilérie sets a fire while the others get on with camp chores, once the camp is settled for the night with the pilgrims sleeping and Tuilérie silently watching the gloaming sunset Tolmen takes the opportunity to meditate on the days ahead and what must be done.
