Tivlyn drained the last of the kingsfoil tea from her flask, gulping down the few mouthfuls left within as she dragged herself to her cottage during the late watches of the night. She shed layers of clothing in the moonlight when she reached her lawn, tugging off her boots and socks last, leaving her clothing in a heap to be mended and cleaned later, before she waded out into the pond behind her home, not stopping until the water was shoulder high.

((neatly penned in Lumi-kieli))

I was visited by Mister Frimsi today; he came to my and Heaika's ghoati in Kauppa-kohta, hearing me as I was nursing Eliisá, and recognized my voice. Singing to her is the only reason I sing now. She is so quiet a baby, so rarely fussy. They say that a baby born to a sad mother will be a quiet child, but will grow up wise. I hope it is so.

(Warning for battle scenes))

We reached the well and looked in.

“We cannot climb down there,” Fealasse protested. “The fumes, the air is poison.” Nolion began to sob a little, picking up on his mother’s distress. 

The Books of War: Prologue [2]

by Benjenn & Tivlyn

(After 'Tutors. 1/3' )

“Amille!” I called as I swung my cloak about my shoulders, stuffed two daggers in my leather belt and took up my sword. “Amille, there is no time for your pictures. You must leave them.”

You find yet another entry written by Kharsi.

Greetings kinsmen!

It has come to my attention that many of you are unaware of the many opportunities the Trade Pillar has to offer, opportunities that you could all use to further perfect your skill in whatever your craft may be and get rich in the process! So I have sent this letter to inform you all of these opportunities the Trade Pillar has to offer. But in order to do that, I must begin with the rich history the Trade Pillar has had in Thorin’s Hall. Pun fully intended of course!