Ailinwen

Tolmen was as usual sitting his accustomed place in the hall of fire plying his accustomed trade of insulting anyone who approached him without due deference and drinking the finest vintages of master Sogadan who alternately glowered and cowered before his gaze.

My beloved liege,

I wanted to tell you of my dream -- I dreamed of Themodir once more.

But first, I will report that I have tried the corn beverage on hir Silwë and hir Tolmen, who are both long-lived Noldor of good constitution. (Tuilerie and Ailinwen were also nearby, but Tuilerie never takes strong drink, and Ailinwen was perhaps too intelligent to try it.)