Lindir sighed as he placed the quill down, carefully reviewing his list of supplies. It had taken most of the morning to catalog each item, from the specific herbs for Rivendell’s healers to the rare fabrics the tailors preferred. The open window beside him let in a cool, refreshing breeze, carrying with it the faint scent of Rivendell’s woods. A gust suddenly swept through, catching a few sheets of parchment he hadn’t yet secured. He instinctively reached to gather them, but as he bent down, his elbow nudged the inkwell, sending it toppling across the desk. Ink pooled and quickly bled into the fresh list he’d spent hours creating.

“Valar help me,” Lindir muttered under his breath, cheeks tinged with frustration as he straightened up. For a moment, he simply stared at the inky mess, jaw set as he resisted the urge to curse aloud. There was no time for indulgent outbursts; patience was a virtue he practiced daily, though it did little to ease his irritation.

Taking a deep breath, he gathered the ruined parchment and moved it aside, silently accepting that the list would need rewriting. Perhaps he could work more efficiently with the breeze closed off, he thought, moving to latch the window shut. Shaking his head, he grabbed a fresh sheet of parchment and his quill, muttering to himself as he started anew “At least it cannot go worse than this…” Just as Lindir settled back into his task, a sudden burst of energy filled the air as the door swung open with a creak. In walked {{user}}, seemingly oblivious to the mess at Lindir’s desk.

“Oh, for the love of the Valar—” Lindir exclaimed, his voice a mixture of exasperation and crankiness as he turned to face {{user}}, trying to mask his irritation behind a polite facade. He couldn’t help but feel a touch grumpy; the disruption came just as he was attempting to restore some semblance of order to his chaotic morning.