Eregion

Fire, terror, destroys my home and plunders

A dark shadow, dark lover, pulls me under

I was happy, then I was lost

I was glorious, then I was rot

Regrets are my friends

I remember the bitter end

I carry on these long months

I feel despair, can I have it my way for once?

My house is crumbled, my crafts are stolen

All I have built up has been torn down, fallen

In need of power, ring of flounder

All I have built up is nothing but ground powder

Born in the year 720 of the Second Age in a small settlement of her people near the western shores of Lake Nenuial. She is eldest of four children; having two sisters and her brother, the youngest. Their father is Curwe Limbetanwë ((S: Lintanor)) of the Noldor; a skilled craftsman of Nargothrond and Aerynbess Celebfindriel, a Telerin elleth of the elves of Doriath and Eglarest is their mother.

In preparation for the journey south, a report was needed on the most recently-known conditions of the ruins of Eregion. Diruviel wrote the following and submitted it promptly to Hiril Tingruviel, as requested.

Ost-in-Edhil, Second Age of Middle Earth
 

Bright sunlight gleamed off the towers of the city, the elegantly ornamented walls fiery with golden inlays forming intricate patterns. Envandiel pulled her gaze from the window, back to where Metime was kneading bread, elbow-deep in the dough. 

Eduwiges of Faldham rode in through a small side gate on the massive oval wall of Minas Tirith. The detritus of battle engraved on her from helm to boots. Weariness darkened her face like a starless night weighed down by gravity. Normally graceful in her movements she clambered down off of Oenone and staggered as her legs took the weight of her body. Eduwiges stepped forward and wrapped her adrenaline weakened arms around her steed’s neck in love and gratitude.

Nandutiriel did not need to keep watch over her sleeping comrades -- not even the gentle ones, híril Norliriel and the mysterious Elloen -- for plenty of sentinels with bows, even at night, peered down hawkishly and roamed the stones of Echad Mirobel.

Yet she could no more have rested than she could have flapped her arms and flown like Elloen's beautiful white eagle. Her mind was awhirl.

Scrawled in haste on a scrap of paper, tied to the leg of a white eagle belonging to Elloen

Captain Himwen:

We waited for you at Gwingris and Echad Eregion, but have proceeded to Mirobel. We helped Elloen. He seems improved.

Reliable intel from the locals at Mirobel says there is a big, old Orc among those who occupy Barad Morlas, who carries the insignia of the team that assassinated both Celebrimbor and Elloen's parents. Will explain in full when I next see you.

Greetings my Lord Anglachelm,

I would like you to know that we wish to take a journey to Eregion for a few reasons for what has transpired in the past few days. One is Lady Himwen wishing to train her recruits there. The other is quite personal to me.

The shadows of dusk were deepening with the passing of the minutes. Anor had long ago dipped below the lip of the Vale, though the sky was still colored faint by her brilliant hues of purples and pinks, with rays of light that lit the edges of passing clouds like fire.