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Falas - A beach (Sindarin)

Submitted by Naruvir on July 20th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

I thail nín thithin erin Amar •
My small feet on the ground
Bain! •
Wonderful!
Mathon i lith da thellyn nín •
Feeling the sand against my soles
limp a rhing ••
Wet and cold.

A recent family tree.

Submitted by Eradric on July 20th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Official Document

This is not openly available, it is probably kept in the family home.

Family Tree

Kinship/Band link: 
Ardaede Carleasnes

The Way of the Harp

Submitted by Malliel on July 20th, 2010
in
What type of content is this?: 
Screenshot: General screen
Malliel practices the harp in her home. Her husband has been teaching her.

Malliel's Diary: Entry 13

Submitted by Malliel on July 20th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

It seems I have neglected this diary somewhat, but so much has occured. I have not thought about writing.

I am now home. I am in Caras Galadhon, to be exact, sitting upon Talan Galadhrim. I am here to birth my child. Baingol insisted that we travel a little earlier than planned, just to be safe. Speaking of my beloved, he returned safely from Greenwood. I am so thankful he was unharmed. The business he had to tend to over there went smoothly. Lord Rasheke accompanied him, so he was in good company.

Godrich

Godrich
Race: 
Man
Background: 
Godrich scowls through his northbound travels in the company of Olwing, a woman sworn to Gondor and whom he serves as bannerman. His deep dislike of his current posting manifests in most of his actions, his dislike and mistrust of 'm'bloody lady' readily apparent if any choose to engage him in conversation.

A History, Part One

Submitted by Mallasdir on July 19th, 2010
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Conceptual
The sun chased dappled shadows across the grass of the glade, warming the buzzing insects that flickered from tree to flower to bush. Mallasdir sat, his eyes closed, the gentle lullaby of the wind through leaves in his ears. It seemed to whisper of ages past and tell tales of the gret and small things that had happened in this very spot. For despite the secluded nature of his perch there were many great tales unfolding around him. A colony of bees had settled high in the branches of one of the sturdy trees and was tirelessly working on their honey.

Celaid ned laer - lights in the summer (Sindarin)

Submitted by Naruvir on July 19th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

Naruvir is often heard singing and reciting old poetry amid her own natural novelty, and this is no exception. Every wordplay offers a fair insight to her playful and youthful mind. She sang the following by the feet of a waterfall:

Amorith's poetry. The waiting time...

Submitted by Amorith on July 19th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

to long I have been away from you..
against our will we have been apart..
for you is all about following orders..
for me is a test of handling the unknowned.

I never thought I would feel such despair.
it feels I have been left alone and not beeing seen..
so many questions, that no one can answer..
Is like silent screams that noone can hear..

Kinship/Band link: 
Vanimar

Amorith's poetry. The little things...

Submitted by Amorith on July 19th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Poetry

 

I am  prepared to face the shadows that approaching us..
I am ready to give myself to this war..
I am aware of the state this world are heading.
And I forsee nothing will be the same as before..

I will not dwell to much of stories and legends.
Or try to understand the acts of those kings..
It will not help me, when I face the enemy.
nor give me strength when I lift my sword.

Kinship/Band link: 
Vanimar

an ill fated hunt

Submitted by Olwing on July 19th, 2010
in
What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary
I was soaked to the skin, he lost his bow. All because of a fool's argument over whether he or I should be the first to jump a stream. I was quite correct, of course, but he would deliberately choose otherwise. And now look at us, all my clothing spread out before the fire and both of us cold and cross under the fur and nothing to show for the hunt. No white susi, whatever it is.

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