Moria

The dark-haired Avari reclined on a small, red couch, inside Tham Send. He had a cool glass of wine in his left hand, his smallest finger sticking outwards whilst the rest of his fingers curl around the glass. In his right hand, resting on top of his fingers, is a book. The writing of it curls in the lettering of Quenya. He would take a sip from the glass of wine, placing it down on a small table in reach, using his free hand to turn the page of the book, then picking up the glass of wine again to take a sip, his eyes moving down the page as he reads the words.

((Please forgive my crude attempt at Tenwar))

And thus the last (or maybe not?) journey of the Shadow Walkers began. With Sauron gone, it was like a weight was lifted from their souls. The journey was long but certainly fun in a way and sad in another.

They passed through Gondor, stopping in Bar Hurin, Arnach, Pelargir, Linhir and Lamedon, and they eventually went through the former Paths of the Dead. None of them ever feared this place, whatsoever. In Rohan, they made fewer stops, and they typically stayed in the wild, except that one time they went to an inn in one of the towns and drank some mead together.

Hail weary traveller, share a drink with me. Looks like ye can use something strong. You come here often? I cant recall I'd seen your handsome face here before. Aye, I can share a tale, if you want.