Harlindon

A greeting from a group of Dwarves, after hearing tidings of an Elven host entering Nogrod.

Whither is the windy welkin?

Whither is the hollowed mountain?

Upon one early summer morning, Morenwenna took a step outdoors from her enclosed, and dim halls. She looked all around every nook and cranny; the sun gleaming, the rustling of fauna, the sparkling water of the fountain and the birds singing in perfect harmony. Morenwenna proceeded to take a further step, only to feel the texture of thick paper and a sort of steel object on her barefoot. Puzzled, she lifted her foot to find a letter.

The sunlight streamed through the windows. Outside, wind blew the cherry trees in a graceful fashion, and the long grasses danced in the breeze. Inside, the teenager looked away from the windows. The lavish walls, blue and decorated in elegant swirls and flower art, felt cold compared to the world outside. Melestheliel held a book in her hand. In the dark oak chair she sat in, she looked down to the book.