The package—narrow, flat, wrapped in golden fabric and tied with golden cord—was sitting on his bed. Waiting for him.

He pulled the parchment from beneath the bow, and read its message.

Thank you for your time today. I hope you will accept this peace offering. Eowyn.

Her handwriting was strong—the characters clearly formed, without flourishes—the effect businesslike but not especially neat. Haldir smiled. Her handwriting.

He opened the parcel.

It was a sash—of deepest red and shimmering gold—a pattern of spiky leaves with sharply etched veins. It reminded him of…

My armour, he thought.