Danel

[A lively elf by the name of Celdir surreptitiously produces a crumpled and ink-stained piece of paper and offers it to those he considers to be friendly to Virthalion including, but not limited to, Lady Danel, Lady Elisbeth and Captain Khalis of Imladris. He expresses some concern over his master’s well-being and although he is not unduly worried, indicates that he wishes to make sure that Virthalion is being kept an eye on by his companions - whether his master approves of this or not.]

I have not kept track of my painting in the last days too often in the form of Tengwar – since the brush strokes of light, shadow and colours are also a language, I have let it speak instead.

The wind howled. As the fireplace struggled to survive in the relentless rain, they all huddled next to a somewhat less damp tree with a hot cup of tea in their hands. Now, rain is not something that worries the odd elleth or ellon. Rain can even be seen as a release, a way of comforting the fea. However, if you have paper with you, that is another matter entirely.

Anáwiel was lying motionlessly on her back in the grass, her hands resting on her chest, silently admiring the stars above. The moon hadn't risen yet and apart from a few clouds the night sky was unobstructed and visible in its full glory. The seven stars of the Valacirca looked especially bright that night.

Somehow things had changed. Friends were bidding farewell, for different reasons. As she watched some of them leave the valley through the open window, all she could hope for them was that their journey would bring them someplace safe.

She took a short step forward towards the vacant desk below the window. Her dress forbade any wider movements. The grey and gold silk robe she had worn for such a long time felt heavy like armour. Would she have need of it? She smirked, thinking she should stop wearing mouse-like raiment and perhaps clothe herself in more vivid colours.