You are a Nolde, yes Almiel? We each of us cannot blame nor praise the line into which we were born. We had no say in the matter. But what we do with that heritage is another issue. We can make our Ancestors proud or shamed.

(East of the Sea of Rhun, the year 1985 of the Third Age)

OOC – Author’s Note:

The Farmer's Daughter's Dream

The next evenin' I resumed me story where I'd previously ended, tellin' me grandkids about Beannaithe and her dreams...

In a quarter of an hour Radawen and Elwil were walking past the Old Archives and heading toward the Gate of Stars. Radawen glanced over her shoulder.

IV. On Fengar and the Family Feud

III. On Stouthammer Hall and the War of the Dwarves and Orcs

The walk back home was uneventful, compared to what had just transpired in the forest. Bryony walked with a slight limp, scrapes and bruises littering her body. Tivlyn had bandaged her head as best as she possibly could, though it still throbbed and ached with every step she took. Bryony was just glad that she got out of that situation alive. A few bumps and scratches were just a part of the adventuring experience.