Anglachelm

Dearest Themodir --

Do you remember that day, where you are now? It is five years since that terrible day. So little time, merely an eyeblink. 

I remember it exactly. I do not know why, but I was wearing a white dress with matching roses in my hair. I think I must have been looking forward to your arrival home from the mountain assignment. A simple supply run, you said. 

Greetings my Lord Anglachelm,

I would like you to know that we wish to take a journey to Eregion for a few reasons for what has transpired in the past few days. One is Lady Himwen wishing to train her recruits there. The other is quite personal to me.

An updated, collated collection of the Stars of the Wilderness Chronicle.

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My dearest Eliriael,

I heard a knock on my door and when I opened it, my uncle Fëamíril was behind it since he had finally arrived from Lothlórien. We has down for a cup of tea and to talk about a thing or few. He asked me why I hadn’t painted for such a long time, but the reason it something that I’m not willing to openly admit yet. ”I need more pratise,” I answered. ”No artist is truly ever finished and perfect.” It was vague, but it was also true and something that I believed in, also for myself.

Diary, Diary, Diary. I have so much to explain.

Through the yéni, the Vanyar and others have nurtured a song that, when sung to one asleep, heals the fëa through dreams. One travels, often in the form of an animal -- some soar as eagles, or even sea-birds as if they had taken form like Elwing. And one sees, or does not. One looks upon Valinor. 

So it was that I loosed my girdle, unlocked the door to my house, and lay down in bed to let my mind wander. I had one question in mind, and only one.

He looked up from the sprawl of dusty pages that lay strewn over the desk in front of him, rolling his shoulders to loosen his tired muscles. He let out a small, mirthless laugh as he registered the unconscious action; even reading could hurt him now. He reached for his glass then realised that it was empty.