It has been too long. Here in the peace of my surroundings I lay down my thoughts to parchment, and at last muse upon the yield of the waning years the Third age has to offer. I recall in my youth the moment my features were scorned from lack of skill. I recall how my dear cousin would show me the beauty of every root , moss and tree.

Sitting with the afternoon sunlight streaming over the table she is sat at, Orlenne has a small smile on her face as she writes, the hard lines usually visible softened slightly as the quill moves fluidly across the parchment.

Today is the day.

I waved goodbye to my dear daughter Welin. It was time to finally travel to Rivendell and search the archives. Ser Matheric kindly offered himself to escort me through the dry terrains of Lone-lands and all the way through Trollshaws to Rivendell. I told him that I probably could do the journey myself, but he was quite determined to help me and show me the archives, and point out the information that he found.

I worry. I worry far too much, I think, for those I know who are going through a difficult time. I worry for Donhelm and Flannery.