Imladris

Again, Eliriael took up her quill, dipped it into the ink, and let her hand hover over the parchment. The tip of the quill stood upon the paper, the ink pooling together for a moment before she began writing. The quill etched itself into the parchment, leaving its imprint and a dark liquid trail behind.

My dearest Miruial,

Dearest Eliriael,

Have you arrived yet in Imladris safely? It has been many weeks now since you departed, promising to write of your arrival once you had reached Lord Elrond’s House.

Eliriael had spent countless days in the rain and sunshine of the valley. Little did she know of the time that passed her. She visited all her favorite places of old, friends she had not seen in many years, and found new fascinations in the changing leaves and waters.

Eliriael descended down the long, winding path into the valley. She patted the neck of her horse, Faenaur, showing affection and gratitude to her friend, who had carried her over a long distance for many days. Faenaur seemed to sense that they had reached their destination and gradually slowed her steps to a full stop. Eliriael deftly slid off Faenaur’s back to the ground in one fluid movement. She did not ride unless there was need for she wished as little discomfort upon her friend.

My Worthy Friend,

I am not entirely sure whether Parnard drives me to amusement or madness.

He sits here even now, stitching away, as is his wont. I have tried a number of times to make out the depiction of the threads but to no avail. They seem to be a cluster of colours to my eyes. Doubtless he sees things differently.