Galtharian

Daurrie, the youngest of the sons of Gurni, had once more forgotten to pick up the order of fresh cheese that was awaiting them at the markets of Bree. Lunch was served and the young Silvan handed over the rest of the tavern business to Dal, hoping to be able to rush to Bree and pick up the forgotten crate before the inn would close for the day.

A continuation of this story, meaning it is entirely unreliable and biased.

This story is an account of certain events that transpired in recent weeks, written from the perspective of Theothar. Since all is written from his (completely insane) point of view, there is a high chance none of the following is at all accurate.

This story takes place shortly after the conclusion of Windswept's  "Poison in the Blood" plot. 

Ella sat overlooking the pond, enjoying the early evening air.    Much had happened over the last few days, so just in this moment, she was taking full advantage of this time of calm and peace.

Hey Fruit Boy,

Ella found herself a chair by the fire, placed her drink on the table and took out her journal.

“Don’t be difficult.”  He said with a wry smile.

Difficult? She took a deep breath slowly.

She was not difficult.  Or she never used to be.

I am cold.

No amount of logs on the fire or blankets will warm me.

He pulled the hood up a little higher on his head while he sat huddled around the fire, looking over to Cynhaer with a grin. "Lucky to find you, traveler. I'd be face down in the scrub of these parts... How did you find me all the way out here?"

Cynhaer smiled and looked to Baralinion and placed a hand on his. "Luck, and by the seven stars. The Lady sent me. Alkawen still moves in these lands but she is far and to the north, in the lands beyond the Vales."