Estarfin

-         Good day my Lady, I hope to speak to you again soon.

-         Speak to me? Speak of the sorrow and pain? You hope for this?

-         Not all from that age was darkness and despair. There was hope.

-         Hope is at the hands of the Hammers now, few in number yet many at heart.

The black-clad host of Elves moved as quietly as they could through the deep winter snow. Their heavy armour prevented them from moving silently, but they knew that their approach would be marked long before they neared their destination, silent or not. The mood of the company was grim, but hope remained that King Dior would see sense; that when the Sons of Fëanor arrived at Menegroth the doors would be open, with the Silmaril awaiting them.