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Undómion twitched, a bit more than usual due to his...changing state from the Dorwinion white, "How can I not..? I am slow to forget people who are insulting. But...I was in a bad state then."
Díllothwen smiled in an almost sinister way, "...Well, I might have...made his stomach feel 'normal'."
'Normal how?'
'Rotten food served in a feastly manner.'
Undómion appeared blank, and went still, 'You...' He appeared lost.
Laurelindo was sitting in their camp, watching the sky above, writing in his usual book at the light of the fading fire.
“The journey started with no incident. Which I suppose, I should count as lucky, knowing the both of us. When Tyulusse and I are together, there is no telling what can happen.
We were just a little delayed in our departure. I suppose it wasn’t avoidable. We either should have left earlier, or should have expected it.
Norliriel, the healer in the party who bore Themodir home to Imladris for the last time, was distraught. Upon entering Manadhlaer's chambers -- Manadhlaer, wife of Themodir, who had married a dying Elf-knight as he lay on the path before the Last Homely House; who had become bride and widow in almost the same breath, as Themodir used the last of his to tell his new wife that he had always loved her -- she almost skidded to a halt.
We arrived at Hrimbarg, northernmost settlement of the Mountains, near the Northern High Pass. There were a few Naugrim there, very surprised at seeing such a large group of Elves, some rather bedraggled and not looking much like soldiers, as one said to me.