Love

Dark waters swirled around Ceonbura as she fought to rise to the surface and escape into the air. She did not know which way was up, only that whichever way she tried to move the water pushed and dragged her in a different direction. Tossed about in the darkness, wishing she had learnt to swim better than she had, she eventually gave up, letting the current take her wherever it wished. In that moment beams of light filtered through the water and a figure appeared before her, reaching out both hands to cup her cheeks.

I will try to accurately document here yet again of what has happened in the meantime since my last diary entry. I may digress slightly within this journal as I believe I may have omitted some minor detail last time.

Cristran had visited my home the next day so that I could check that he was healing adequately after our encounter in the Old Forest.   I quietly marvelled at just how quickly he was healing, he had suffered this malady for far longer than I would believe any mortal could and he was healing at a hugely accelerated rate. 

The poem, written at the Poetry Improvisation Game at the Spire of Meetings, received word to use was "Lady".

***

I sit in tavern, noisy one.

Which goblet am I drinking?

The sun goes down, day is done...

About her I'm thinking.

The Lady enters, full of grace,

And walks among the drunkards.

Can't get my eyes off faultless face...

Alas, I am below her standards.

***

A year. It had been a year since the poem Eiragerd had written for her own self. Somehow, again, this date managed to surprise her. Yes, she'd had further growth and goodness in the year between.
But somehow, on the very day she thought would pain her again, she was given unexpected blessing.

(OOC: I read this while listening to this music piece, and as long as you read it somewhat slowly, it works beautifully. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5zFnGRaO0E )

It was impossible. A dream. Or perhaps a nightmare, with how it tortured her. Still, his return could not be a nightmare with such gentle words...could it?

S.A 1700

Many years had passed since the events that unfolded in Eregion. During that time, a much larger threat loomed over the land. A dark lord, once a lieutenant to his former master in Beleriand, had begun gathering an army from the east. The threat was imminent, and reports of secret alliances between the east and west had surfaced, even during Orneth's captivity.

{ Being a letter left where it can easily found, on the kitchen table with a spray of Uthulós }

Seregrían to her husband Cutch, greeting:

Come, come, gather here 
Behold such a saddening tale 
Come, come, take your handkerchief 
It may keep you well.

It came upon the sunrise clear 
That sorrowful song of old 
From Elves bounded to the Earth 
To touch their harps of gold.

The Ranger find himself alone in the wood 
It's magic only forest spirits understood 
He lose himself hoping to find 
The peace of mind he left behind.