Faorie

The eagle batted its golden eye and looked accusingly at him, as if it was Parnard's fault that it was so cold, and he was so far from the Valley, and so tired from roaming all night searching for him.

His left hand wavered in the air in front of the sharp beak as his right hand crept forward to remove the small scroll tied to its leg.

"Confounded bird!" he cried out, as the eagle nipped at him again and again, and struck him full in the face with its wing.

The cold wind in the heights of the Misty Mountains swirled around Thendryt. The outpost-fort of Hrimbarg’s cold stonewalls surrounded him. The Warband cloak was restless on his back, the cloth moving violently in the wind. It felt heavier than usual.
You might not fear pain, nor death. But what of exile, I wonder?
Like Dolthafaer would know anything about his fears. Thendryt lifted his hand and touched the dark stone. He clenched his fist and hit the wall.
The damn Elf was right.

(This incident took place after the fight with the frost giant at Vindurhaal)

In all the time she had been striving to join the Warband and after she had done so, Lilleduil had never known Khalis to be wounded.  So she was shocked to see him rubbing his side and up under his sword arm after the fight with the ice giant, speaking to Faorie in a low voice.  She kept an eye on him during their journey back to the camp and he seemed to be traveling well enough, though he complained once of missing the trail.

Dolthafaer stood still and straight at his post, keen eyes moving restlessly over the view before him – snow, for the most part, broken only by the pathetic silhouettes of tall spindly trees and ancient hunks of rock.  The camp was silent below him, save for a few moving carefully amongst the sleeping company. 

It was a quiet watch. 

Peaceful. 

(Written in a somewhat spiky, spidery, yet nonetheless legible hand)

Faorie,

I hope this letter finds you well-I hope it finds you at all! If it does, please tell Forostel that I gathered all the herbs on her list.  Since gathering is my strong suit and not processing, I put them into the hands of the healers of the House, who promised they would be properly prepared for distilling and set aside for the Warband’s use, so that she might deal with them upon her return.

Dusk was falling.  Lilleduil, refreshed by her swim, found herself in good enough humor to attempt to deal with the Man again.  She found him out by the gate of Maur Tulhau, sitting with his back against a rock and looking, if not exactly weary, disgruntled at the whole world.  Which seemed to be his default expression most of the time, when she thought upon it.

Giving him a look of carefully metered inquiry, she said, “Thendryt, I know you're not here to freshen up, but you ought to, and let me re-dress those wounds.”

The splash was not a loud one, over the rushing of the river, but elven ears picked it up nonetheless.

“Did you hear something?” Caleniel asked.  Lilleduil got up, her suspicions roused.