A roll of paper among the several sent by bird from Lorien to Bree. A slip covers it with a brief message.
I hope you don’t find this presumptuous, but I thought it might comfort you. I’ll slay whatever needs slaying to bring him back safe, and he’s being careful. I’m crap with words. Anyhow, here’s this.
The heavier paper is watercolor with ink, the far-off wood of Lorien where the thick canopy shades rich green foliage. Ghostly slender mallyrn trunks rise ghostly and white to a faintly bronze above. Thragan stands in silhouette holding a ghostly scrap of black in his hand that flutters in a breeze to caress his side. A golden sunbeam breaks the canopy’s shield to bathe Thragan in glittering light. Light touches of ink suggest a smile pulling at the weary set of his face.