Eliriael

Valanya, the 6^th day of Hrivë

“And what of the wine order?” asked Parnard.

“It arrived, complete and unbroken. You are drinking some of it now.”

Menelya, the 53^rd day of Quellë

Laurelindo was enjoying a slow morning at home. The weather outside was fair, however the elf was inside, an open book on his lap, writing supply on the nearby table. ​

"The day yesterday was... fantastic. 

Well, fantastically boring, with the exception of two meetings. 

Eliriael ran her hand over the parchment on her desk. One of the healers had brought in the letter to her, bearing Lord Anglachelm's seal, earlier that morning. Her brows furrowed gently close together as she glanced over the shelves of multicolored jars in the healing house, taking a mental inventory just as the letter asked of her. The afternoon sunlight happened to be shining through the window and lit the small labels on the jars, allowing Eliriael to read them with ease.

There was a soft rap on the wooden frame of the doorway that stole Eliriael’s attention from the glass jars on the table in front of her. She had been eyeing the consistency of a particular red jar when she looked up.

“I was told by the healers that I would be able to find you here,” a small timid voice presented its owner wearing a sheepish smile.

“Eliriael.” It was the same voice from her dreams, except this time her name was being called with tender warmth instead of desperation or hopelessness. She pulled out of the long embrace and looked up at the elleth. “Welcome home. I was hoping you would return soon.”

Eliriael gave a slight smile as she smoothed down her hair. “In my dreams, you appeared and called to me. I thought something might have been amiss.”

To the Lady Rainith,

I write to you from Lorien to inform you that my path has taken me away from the rest of our kin in the South. Please excuse my haste in leaving without your permission. I feel called to return to Lorien, for a reason I cannot yet tell. Lorien is still my home and those who I call my family reside in these woods. Please allow me to remain with the Galadhrim until I have assured all is well here.

Eliriael stopped mid-run at the edge of the wood, her breath short. Her eyes danced with mirth as she pulled off her traveling shoes and took her first step into the Golden Woods. She let her bare feet sink into the grass and her lips broke into a joyful smile as she reveled in the sensation. In the next moment, she was immediately running again, bounding past trees and weaving between them. As she ran further, a warm air shook the last remnants of frost from the mountains off of her clothes, and the woods filled her with energy.

The wind howled past her ears and echoed among the mountains. The snow whirled around her in a flurry. After six days of climbing, Eliriael had finally given in and stopped to rest. The provisions she had brought from Mirobel were cold and hard with frost so she held them up to the fire with her hands. When they thawed in the heat, she slowly took small bites from them.