Danel

Parnard twisted the paper in his clenched hand. I will be far away by the time you read this – it began apologetically, and ended with the strictness of admonitions not to follow. How was he going to explain this fresh madness to Lord Anglachelm?  He crumpled the letter up.  Lady Danel could do what she liked, as she always did.

An involuntary cry of pain escaped his bruised and chapped lips as a thin dagger found a way through his broken armour and cut deeply into the pale flesh of his upper arm. With barely a conscious thought he swept the heavy shield that he carried into his assailant, knocking them careering backwards and clearing the immediate space in front of him. The anger that had fuelled the scything sweeps of his wicked spear was ebbing from him as the bone-chilling cold pierced the madness and began to rapidly sap what strength remained to him.

They moved quickly from the deep shadows and despair of the dungeons into a small courtyard full of broken stone. Belegos led them out, moving with almost indecent haste to escape what they had done, had been forced to do. As he reached the middle of the courtyard he seemed to realise his mistake, as his sharp eyes scanned the empty windows and rough holes that had been delved into the high walls surrounding the open space. Nothing stirred in the silence, but the scout did not let his guard down.

My kindred, not content with any common enemies that lessen and destroy us, were set on reducing the great multitude of despicable Men into far less numbers, and deliver a powerful blow to our Enemy by purging the land of their tribe, settled so close to the borders of the Horse-Men’s lands; and by this bloodshed, show that we stood on the same side, and meant them no ill will. It was decided that one of the Dun-Men would be spared, to become our bartering tool to the Horse-Men.

He stood apart from the others, the faint glow of the fire still visible from the copse of stunted trees that he stood in. The rain had ceased its downpour hours ago but his cloak was still wet through, clinging to his light armour and inner layers of clothing. He stood still, leaning against the rough bark of one of the nameless trees, silent, uncomfortable and cold in his wet clothing. Drops of rain fell on him from time to time, a residue of the storms still left upon the dark leaves of the tree.

I am lying on the ground somewhere in Dunland, trying to sleep next to some of the House of Vanimar, instead of my comfortable bed in Rivendell or Lórien. So how did this happen? When I first entered the house, the people I met after Lord Anglachelm were of the Order of Hammer. When the events started to go rough on them, I felt like I needed to make myself useful for them as a warrior that I am.

“I hope you did not forget to bring me some cakes, to comfort me for waiting for my dinner till I am half starved."

In the morning I rose, and went to the Hall of Fire to dine with Sogadan.

For some time, I have watched these elves in the valley of Imladris, where I lurked all the spring; speaking little to anyone. Most took no heed of me, for I did not encourage talk, and kept myself apart, listening for news of my brother. None was forthcoming. I began to think he was dead, and that by the end of the season, I must betake some other plan of action.

Now Rainith has told us of her wounding during her brave battle with the Orc on the very borders of the wood, and how she stood between them and her Malledhrim friend, and suffered grave injury, almost losing her life, from the look of her. I am worried that she is too weary to travel, but she said she was not.