Yule-time Gifts!

Yule Gifts for All!

Well, not for all. For most that my characters know. They’re all described, if notes are attached, and the like. Happy Holidays and Yule-time to you all, ICly and OOCly. ❤


  • Tarlanc – “Having an official marriage ceremony counts, right? As a gift to each other? I mean, we’ve got to find tokens for each other and dress up and all that…”
  • Ian – Two small figurines. The first is a small male figure in a robe and with pulled back hair; a small detail that may take him some time to see – or not – is a teeny snakehead peeking out of the robe’s sleeve. The second is a borderline comical representation of Ian, mid-swinging dance step. Stained to a deep red color, both figures are small enough to hide in a pocket. A note attached simply says, “Now you both can be with each other all the time, one for each. – L
  • Helvia – A perfectly round baby’s rattle, with intricate nettles and honeysuckles intertwined in three carved rings around it. If she ever counts it, she may notice there are nine nettles and nine flowers per ring. The enclosed note says, “I counted 27 beans inside: three sets of nine. Very safe rattle! – L
  • Guradan – A small bundle of notes, wrapped with the rattle. There is no note, but his name is written on the parchment that holds them together. It consists of an accurate family tree of his mother’s side, along with a few notes of remembrance from those who knew the family well.
  • Gis – Chairs! A note is left in her friend’s mailbox: “I have two chairs waiting for you, they match your table perfectly! Don’t want to leave them in the snow, so come and get them whenever you’re able. – L
  • Rosie & Course – A lightweight wooden rattle, much like the one given to Helvia, only the decorations are roses and vines, two large rings instead of three; a small note says, “For the three of you. – L
  • Caraeglir – Wrapped in paper, a set of very authentic and sturdy hand-spades and other gardening tools, clearly imported from Gondor. For little Civrennil, yet another rattle covered in roses as well as a well-made wool hat.
  • Ceswyn – A sturdy stick, smooth and with a leather-wrapped handle. Attached to it is a small, stuffed mouse made of durable fur. A little note, “Hope you and Snowball enjoy!” is attached.
  • Nethali – Old and strong, a very nice smelling bottle of aged scotch.
  • Cynewynne – A large pair of incredibly bright socks; most (including Lori) would call them “in poor taste,” alternating waves of bright green and purple. Also a well-loved copy of some rather torrid poetry.


  • Ian – Two tall and wide candles, swirled purple and white; small flecks of silver and gold foil are folded into it.
  • Luned – Tall and slender candle, swirls of black and white. Small silver flecks of foil speckled throughout.


  • Ian – A hat and pair of gloves, very warm wool. Knit with two colors of yarn, one showing on each side. One color is a light lavender, the other a royal purple.


  • Daeline – A spicy, heavy loaf of traditional Yule-time bread from Sûri-kylä, along with a carefully knitted cap. It is both made with delicate and soft yarn and very stylish (even if very Lossoth-esque).


Letters to Gram: What am I doing?

June 7
Loriwen Snowberry, 6 Long Street, Wildore, Bree-land

I’m sorry, Grams!

I’ve not written you for a while, with reason. I have been so busy! Between staying in contact with all those friends I mentioned last time, trying to keep up with orders that were recently asked of me, and other personal matters, I have had little time to myself. Work has been the busiest of all lately.

I’m certainly not complaining about this, though! You know how I love my work. Not much in this world makes me happier than quietly sitting with a mug of ale and a piece of wood to carve. I recently finished a marvelous bookcase for a lovely young woman in town. She seemed most eager to have it done before the middle of this week. Apparently she had bought some books or some sort for her husband, and wanted to surprise him with a new shelf to put them on. Sweet, if you ask me.

I recently got a request for a rather beautiful instrument. A lute, made of maple wood.. darkened with color, and ivory turning keys. Absolutely lovely! I can’t start work on it until I get the keys, though. I’ll spend a lot of time looking for just the right wood. It’s hard to find maple wood willing to bend into a lute’s shape, but they are so sturdy and sound so sweet when you do find it.

I’ve continued to see Tarlanc, having a meal with him here and there.. last night, we met at the Broken Cask. A rather odd name for a tavern, but a lovely tavern it is! It’s run by one who is fast becoming a good friend, Rosemead. She was just married, and quite happy for it. Good on her, I say. She’s a kinder person than I think she realizes, and she deserves it. Particularly after she told me what happened to her last suitor: he apparently just ran off before they were married! How unfair! Who would leave Rosie, of all people in Bree, before marriage? She’s such a sweet person. Well, it worked out for the best in the end anyway, because now she has her Course. They’re quite happy together, I think. It’s nice to watch them interact.. he likes to sneak up on her.

I don’t in truth remember much of what happened at the Cask proper, because I’m a bit aflutter from what happened afterward. Tarlanc has been talking to me about the waterfall near his place for quite some time. We snuck out a bit early, and headed on over there after a little. He did something quite odd. Quite odd, indeed, I think. I wish so much you could give me your opinion on this, Grams. He told me he.. planned on kissing me in the future. Not.. he didn’t just do it, he told me he was planning on it! How strange is that? I wonder if it’s some kind of Gondor thing, announcing intentions beforehand. I’m unsure. It certainly gave me a bit of a scare. Not that I minded, mind you! It just took me by surprise.

I am uncertain where things will go from here, but I’m perishing curious. I take back what I wrote in my last letter: he is far from uninteresting, at any glance you can spare in his direction. Leastways, it seems that way to me. We usually talk of mundane things, work and the like, but I could think of no better way to spend time. Everything he says is different and curious…I think I’m rather fond of him. Oh, Grams! Is it too soon to think such things? It’s been not even two weeks since we met! I fear I said some rather foolish things last night, when he said he preferred plain speech. Ah, that is something you never say to me! I just blurt out what is on my mind. It never ends well. I spoke of my confusion at all this…I have no idea what is going on, that I’m unexplainably drawn to him. I’m a bit worried. He’s more…well, more experienced in this field. He says he’s never really courted a woman before, but I don’t believe it. He’s had to have had at least one woman, he is too interesting not to.

I really have no idea what I’m doing, or why. I just say things around him. Things in my mind.. it’s hard to think straight. I hope this, whatever it is, passes soon enough. I like having my wits about me. Ah.. what am I going to do with myself? I don’t know. I need to head off, to go find some of that maple. It’s going to take quite a time to find the right one. I promise I’ll try to write more often. I love you, Grams.

Your little pumpkin,

Letters to Gram: New Friends

May 30
Loriwen Snowberry, 6 Long Street, Wildore, Bree-land


I’m sure this is a bit odd, writing letters to you. Not only could you not read when you were alive, you’re gone now. Well, I miss you something fierce and it’s comforting to write to you, as if you’re here. I have a few odd behaviors, and another private one won’t hurt anyone, now will it? Not really, I think.

I’ve finally come out of my shell after being sick for such a long time. That plague took a greater toll on me than I thought it would, it put me in bed for two whole weeks! You would have probably scolded me for heading off into the night the way I did, but it had to be done. That poor little girl and her brother wouldn’t have made it without that help, I just know it. It was worth getting sick, in order to help them. I’m sure you’d agree in the end…leastways, after I got better. My appetite was higher than normal for quite some time, guess I was regaining my strength. I’m all back to normal now. At least, as normal as I’ll ever get. I’ve been trying to get better about my footing.. managed to fall off a bridge a little while back, although that rightly wasn’t my fault. My horse stepped on a particularly sharp stone and lost her footing. I managed to fall off when she was stumbling.. and it just happened to be on a bridge. Fell right into the river, cut my face up but good. I’m a bit concerned this small scar will stay there. I hope not. But then again, me falling.. what’s new about that? Hah! Such a boring letter, even when I’m not going to send it. I’ve never been good at writing letters.

Being so sick really puts a damper on one’s spirits. I finally cleaned up Dad’s old farmhouse. It was pretty devastated by the floods. I thought long and hard on the decision, and I moved out. Sold the place. I’m surprised I got the funds I did from it, but then again.. farmland is the lifeblood of Bree. I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised that old Wheatley wanted more land. Took the money and bought myself a quiet little house in a lovely town called Wildore. I have a small garden, enough to feed myself but good. Still don’t cook. Don’t trust myself to, I think. I’m clumsy enough without adding fire into the mix! Instead of cooking, I’ve gotten myself into brewing. It’s really quite basic, once you get used to the formula for good ale.

You’d be proud of me. As I said up a ways, I’ve been coming out of my shell. My brewing has turned out to be a surprisingly good tool to meet friends. I finished up a particularly interesting batch of ale, a basil blackberry ale, and invited my new neighbors to come along and try it. It got mostly good remarks, as well as a few unsure “interesting”s. I met a rather interesting man while out at the Pony one night, looking for friends to invite to my ale tasting. It’s a bit embarrassing how it happened, but I imagine you’d laugh and shake your head, given how like me it is. I was talking with an acquaintance of mine on the front stoop when someone else ran up to talk to him. I backed up, and managed to fall right off! It wasn’t too far a drop, I wasn’t hurt…just extremely embarrassed. This kind man hopped down and helped me stand up. Something about him struck me, I can’t rightly explain it. I had an overwhelming urge to invite him as well, stranger or not. So I did!

My tasting went off beautifully, everyone had a wonderful time. It was quite nice to meet my neighbors and create some new friendships. With dark talk from far away lands reaching our ears, everyone can use all the friends they can get, I think. But I’d rather not talk about such sad topics. My tasting was wonderful fun, but in truth, I can’t remember much of it. I spent most of my time talking with the man who helped me up at the Pony. His name is Tarlanc. Just Tarlanc. He’s from Gondor, they don’t much care for surnames down there. When you really look at it, he’s a rather uninteresting man at first glance, and even second glance. That said, it doesn’t stop me from being very interested in him for some reason. I can’t explain it. I wish you were here, I’m sure you would have some wonderful words for me, followed by your finger wagging. Is it normal to be involuntarily drawn to a person? I may be speaking out of turn here, since we’ve only truly spoken that one time, but I find something fascinating about him. I wonder if he feels anything similar to me. Ah, well. I’m used to being ignored or rejected by those I find interesting. I suppose this will be much the same. Leastways, it will be once he sees just how clumsy I am.

Ah, I do miss you, Grams. I miss you so. You’d no doubt be warming up some chamomile tea for me and scolding me about being a starry-eyed fool at my age. And you’re right, of course. I shouldn’t think of someone so much after one meeting, I really shouldn’t. I think I’ll go put on a kettle myself and pretend your harsh but well-meant words are flowing my way once again. I do love and miss you and Dad, Grams. A lot.
Your little pumpkin,