Adventure Awaits - and Can Wait
Torech Besruth, Falathlorn, Lindon
6 Coirë in the Reckoning of Imladris
There was another overnight snow at The Lair. The ground, the boughs, the eaves, the rooftops, were all mantled in white and crystal. I stepped outside in the gathering light with a mug of coffee in my hands, steam wafting up like my own hand-held hearth. The breath of breeze off the river was stinging and refreshing, and actually more invigorating than the coffee. As before, every sound was magnified by the frosty air: the waters of the river and the cascade from the heights, the tinkling of ice-rimed branches brushing together - and suddenly came a high, shrill shriek from the airs above.
I glanced up to see my Sûlpadron loitering on the wing against the clouds. A shrill whistle of my own brought him to alight nearby, but curiously he bore no message in his talon's pouch. He gave me a blink, then I heard him plainly, as all Elves can:
{Greetings, LadyRedElf. I bear thee a message from the LanceHobbit you bade me seek}
I replied, {Greetings, Windwalker. Thou dost bear no burden, so I deem thy message is brief. How fares the halfling?}
{The LanceHobbit and his companion art far afield. I did bear a letter from him to others of his kin, but he bade me return unto thee with these tidings: his search, and himself, doth proceed into danger to the North and, thus far, hath yielded little.}
I pondered these words. I had bidden - no, begged - Lancogard to seek out the truth surrounding my betrothed's death, and send me tidings as he could. I learned he, and my other dear halfling-friend Applecider, have both undertaken the search, and are scouring the northern marches of their Shire for news. Sûlpadron has carried news back and forth between us, and I gave Lance leave to command him as he saw fit. I fell silent for a while, shaking off my thoughts when Sûlpadron spoke again.
{What message might I bear thee next, LadyRedElf? Stay your reply, I beg thee, until I hath rested and fed, for the leagues were long and the winds favored me not...}
{Take thy rest, O Windwalker! No reply shall I bid thee bear this day. The north-gable of my house is open to thee, as always.}
As my eagle-friend leapt to the air, I turned back inside and climbed the stairs to the Sanctum. I sat in my chair at my study, thinking of a reply I might send to Lance and Cider. Dear little halflings, walking into the unknown to help me, and at my behest. I am responsible for the peril they now face. But what could I do to help them, if anything at all? Then it came to me: I myself shall go. I am not some petty noble who commands others, regardless what titles and honorifics others might bestow - but is that not part of nobility, to share in the perils and labors of others?
I took up quill and ink, grabbed parchment and began to compose a hurried letter - but then I also realized Sûlpadron was weary and would not be available. So I set it aside and began to make a few preparations of my own, and wrote this entry. Adventure can wait; coffee for now...
Next Entry: Ice-Bound, in Home and Heart
