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maurr

A Reply, Long In Coming, and without Warning, to Maurr in Erebor

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Official Document

Somewhere above the hushed rushing of the underground river, and the faint flow of music throughout the Halls of Felegoth, a home settles once more into quiet.  The embers of the hearth have long been quieted, and the grand dining table – already dusty with disuse from its owner’s continued comings and goings – is scene to a last round of hasty packing.

A reply to Nardhwen

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

[This letter is mostly written in Westron using cursive cirth, a handsome upright hand that is both elegant and crisply legible. It is also… substantially long.]

 

Bíld son of Bóurr to Híril Nardhwen greeting!

Letter 3, with news for Arlis

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

 

 


Over tall snowy mountains raking teeth against the sky, through craggy valleys tangled with trees, the raven flies. Over yellow hills and plains flies Pock, till the green of the Chetwood erupts at the border of Bree-land. The raven’s westmost destination is just past those trees — a shabby house in a little village, marked by a far less shabby, stone-reinforced windmill, sweeps turning vigorously in the stout Spring breeze.

Letter 2, a request made to Nínimil

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

 


Over lake long and forest vast, a raven with two white feathers flies. Every wingbeat, those feathers flash, a bright gleam moving among stone and tree. In the past, it made the raven a little nervous, worried those unusual feathers would draw the eye of predators or worse. 

A Mighty Battle: The Tale of Maurr Bóurrul and the Dire-frog of the Bruinen

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

Several pages are filled with notes transcribing a story as told in rapid shorthand, messier than usual. There are several places where the notes become almost scribbles and at least one place where a line indicates the writer’s hand jerked in surprise, leaving an unintended mark. A few doodles of Dwarves and frogs fill the margins in various size ratios.

Letter 1, after the wedding

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

 

 


It was not announced to the Mountain when it happened, and so the crowd that gathered in the plaza was at first only small. Even so, when the doors of the grand home built high on a terrace above flew fully open, bend towards them did the attention of most neighbors standing on the stone walkways around; and when three Dwarves exited, the two flanking in robes brilliant enough but the one between them shining like a polished lapis set in silver and gold, the attention of all the neighbors followed them.

Nínimil's Journal: Rings and Things

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

As with so much of Erebor, the ability of the Dwarves to draw light into every corner of their home might surprise the unexpecting traveller.  However deep below the mountain one finds themselves, light filters down, suffusing the tunnels with illumination.  In a small, relatively quiet corner of a workshop, that light rests peacefully on staves and slivers of silver-grey wood, giving the scene a sense of calm that belies how busy it was only moments ago.  All the

Nínimil's Journal: Rebuilding, Reclaiming

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

The works of Men will never cease to amaze me.

The charge to the apprentice

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Story

 

Into the domicile on the far side of Tumnu-dûm steps the young Dwarf, after scuffing his boots still muddied by the road from Dale on the step outside. There he pauses—to wait for his host to invite him further, yes, but also to look around with a hum and a sigh as he unclasps his cloak, draping it over his left arm; the heat of the fireplaces already hitting him.

Nínimil's Journal: Home, Happiness, Hesitation

What kind of Adventure is this?: 
Diary

Dear journal, I had meant to write to you from a calmer place, and a more rested mind.

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