Tuilerie

The sorrowful song of Eregion ever weaves the veils of despair upon our fëar, yet as I raise my eyes and look upon the starlit heavens my heart rejoices. The jewels of Elbereth, the clearest lights of Arda...Still they are resting above my gaze, and as ever, in times of great sorrow her ever-bright beauty remains. It shall be my wish for this night, that looking upon the celestial embroidery will fill us with hope once again, one that is so oft cried for on the journey of shadows we dared to begin.

For the hundredth time, Tuilérie goes through her light pack, the bedroll, and spare supplies. "Lembas", she thinks to herself, and nods. And there is the map of Eregion, safely rolled and carefully stowed away in a water-proof case, as well as her fishing rod. She pats Nolandur gently on his head, who follows her around, tail wagging without cease, sniffing at everything.

Tuilérie frowns, eyes thinning, as she surveys the floor panels of the stage beneath her feet. A small crease grows between her brows, and, she bends down to test one of the panels with her hand that seem to have come loose. She nods silently to herself. The Lord of the House, Anglachelm, was not wrong in his assessment of the condition of the woodwork, it was in desperate need of repair.