Misty Mountain Campaign

Dear Diary, today I let loose my hair. As I had thought, it is quite grown back since last year. I wish Galdorion spent more time in the Vale, for several ellyth have asked me where one can get those unique fan-shaped hair-pins, and as far as I know, he is the source. As well, he is a gentle soul, and did not reprimand me for cutting my hair short in a paroxysm of grief one year ago today. Ai Themodir!

The warhammer on his back moved.

It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible but restless, terribly restless.

Four there were gathered in the Hall of Fire... until Tathlas came.

Manadhlaer was known only by epesse -- Tathlas, for all that he was young, was observant. His observations so far had been that she always introduced herself by saying, "I am called Manadhlaer," not "I am" or even "My name is." The name, in her accent so different from his own, seemed fey -- "song of fate" was hardly a name without a certain melancholy to it.

Some beautiful paths can't be discovered without getting lost