Bree-land

Gerry came to see me the day he died. I was surprised to see him standing right there, on the porch, as if waiting to be summoned inside. He used to visit me often. Then he met that girl from Combe. I won’t deny it hurt a little.

‘Well, what happened? No trip to Combe tonight?’

Last night, I got to see everyone again. In sooth, I was so excited to finally speak to Mister Arthur Hazelwood about his portrait that I might have been a bit over-enthusiastic. I had piles of papers of sketches and concepts, and I think he was overwhelmed by all the ideas I presented him with.

She wasn't often one to get lost. She thought by now, having been in Bree for a few weeks, she would know her way around the twists and turns of the city. Bree isn't like Archet. Archet was contained, fenced in, claustrophobic. She had memorized every track and path, and you could see foliage blooming between buildings and stables. 

Discarded in the corner of the upper room of the Company house is a note. The paper was balled up and tossed aside, though if one were to smooth it out...

Leaning back against the trunk of red leafed tree in the garden of the little stone house he'd bought, Mornenion took a sip from his glass of wine. It was a beautiful night, to him. The sky was dark with brewing storm clouds, meaning the moon and the stars were hidden. It was almost like when he was young, in Dorwinion, where the light of the two trees did not reach. That is why he and his people are called the Avari, the Dark Elves, because they never saw the light of the two trees in their full power.