Parnard

The map had made no mention of this place. A looming stone shape stood before him, dark and forbidding. He dismounted carefully from the bay mare, ensuring his boots made as little noise as possible on the loose scree outside the squat ruin. He whispered a word of caution to the tired horse, patting her mane as he did so.

For a moment, memories arose…

More than six thousand years ago, in the age of the Noldor, they had dwelled in Beleriand, the mighty realm between the Ered Luin and the grinding ice of the Helcaraxë.

Dearest Gwanûr,

The news you sent in your letter greatly surprised me! I would not have left so far from home, indeed, if I knew that I could obtain a position as a courier so close to home. Who learned of it, you or Ada? Whoever it was, I am extremely grateful and I will hurry back west to begin. I think it will take me some time still for me to pack all my things and return.

Daegond looked up. The grey overcast was visible from where he sat, in the main inner courtyard of Elrond’s house.

He always wondered why this last homely house had a roof after all. If they are to leave the alley without one, just to keep the fountain refreshed in every rain, why on earth they bothered themselves to stack shingles on elsewhere? It was getting water from all sides.

The sun was sinking below the horizon, bathing the ruins in a soft red glow. Its rays gave some final warmth before the darkness of the night took over. Gwingris was more occupied today than usual with a group of travelers who had just come from Imladris. They sat beside the fire now, sharing its warmth and a kettle of herbal tea. Some of them had stepped aside to stand watch or speak with the inhabitants of Gwingris. At this time, Eliriael broke away from the group quietly and inquired into borrowing writing instruments and the use of a messenger bird.

It appears I do not have to cook much today. There are still much food after the feast of unveiling Anglachelm's portrait, and I have to get yet rid of some of it, somehow.

Dolthafaer had – foolishly, he now realized – believed that his troubles with Thendryt had come to an end.  Months ago, the Man had departed from the Valley and taken up his post in the Coldfells, where his madness had been allowed to run unchecked so long as it was against the servants of the enemy.  Out of sight.  Out of mind.  The thought that he might even find his end in those cold pines had been a comforting one.

At the Hithaeglir, Annúngil paid Thendryt little heed, too absorbed in his duties to mind his presence. However, it was more of a presence of absence. The man came and gone as he saw fit and his superiors commanded. When he was at the encampment, Thendryt kept to himself, as far as he could from the Eldar.