Estarfin watched the road, eyes keen for any unwelcome traveler. As he waited under the stars, he ran through the lines of lore he had been writing.
Through snows that veiled the mountains bleak,
Three Firstborn strode o’er vale and peak,
Parnard, a wood elf, young and free,
He pulled them fast from western sea,
Though young he was, his spirit burned,
For hope in darkest Mirkwood yearned.
Danel, beside him, fierce and bright,