#Dol Amroth

My dear Isulril,

I hope I may call you that, as someone who has longed to be a friend to you for many years. I know that we have not always agreed on many--most--things, but I hope that you will set this aside for what I am about to tell you. Your father is ill. Indeed, he is doing very poorly now, and has requested your presence at his bedside. He has asked me to make such a missive, because he finds himself unable to do so, due to the nature of his ailment.

I never needed poison. I never needed to hide. I never needed the pseudonym of Mrs. P. I never needed any of these trappings. No, indeed. Sometimes the pen is mightier than the poignard, and so I used it upon Hathostaran, and I will use it here to tell the tale.

Peace, calm, stillness. Three words that had been removed from Isulril's vocabulary for the past month at the very least. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of activity for her. She had seen so many changes that it had been difficult to keep up. Life was changing, and she was changing too.

The feeling of wishing to run had come to a crescendo for the woman. She had considered leaving everything, leaving Bree altogether, returning to Gondor as a disgrace. The disgrace that she knew in her heart that she was. But she had remained.

(Author's note: This story is told from the perspective of Aellwenn's brother Faren as I currently do not have a player behind this character he is an NPC of my own making.  This is to portray her background and the difficult relations regarding her family ties.)