Angmar

It was a cruel night – dark and cold, empty of emotion yet corrupted, and it stabbed Nenusidh’s warm heart like a knife. The land was giving the ranger a message – a rather bitter message at that, that there cannot be mercy. The moon was neither bold nor strong enough to best the cruel skies, and the stars were too few and much covered. The land was covered in darkness, yet despite so, there was a fragment of light within the ranger.

It has been two days and well into noon, by now. Despite so, this did not trouble Nenusidh, perhaps it was one of the reasons why he had to set out so quickly, which was the journey will be a while in itself. He has made way into the steep hills of Nan Amlug, the area where the forest breaks into hill and deep valleys.

It was a cold winter, especially moreso in the northern regions such as the woods of Annúndir that resided between the Fields of Fornost and Kingsfell. Despite the temperature, the day was glowing, but the sun hid behind a mask of clouds. It was to be expected as light comes with heat, and if heat was masked so should light.

As the party approached the Watchers, a growing sense of unease filled Eruthaiwen. Standing before them was almost too much for the kind elf as their very presence seemed to suck the life from the air. She tried to comfort Leothross in his distress but to no avail.

Acurith frowned. "What did you do that the Stones had bothered to remember you? It must have caused great damage to the Enemy..." she continued darkly "...or maybe you were one of...them...and you don't remember it. There is no other explanation. At least none that I could think of."

Dead scattered across the fields of gritty dirt and ash. East-men and Hill-men alike, crimson seeping into the ground. Few of the Hill-men had survived the fight, and fled back towards the local villages for safety and fresh warriors while providing safety for the child now in their custody. Few had returned, and The Young Hunter included. 

Tied to the stump of a large and ancient tree, fasted tightly with thick leather straps, bound by the hands and feet, and gagged with a dirty and bloody rag, the elf slumped unconsciously against the worn bark.

Today we left Aughaire again and we went to the north. We got enough of information from the Orcs of Morfil and we made haste to save Ancthan. Personally, I had no hope for the elves. That was the surprising part of the day. We made our way to the north-Eastern part of the evil land. It was when we rested at a little camp, I do not remember the name, that we suddenly met another elf. Masked, worn and tired. I was not by the first to recognize Orodrethas, Arstelles brother.

Once they arrived at Esteldin, the rain had stopped and the morning sun was shining through the grey clouds. The rangers trudged up the muddy path to the hidden stronghold, dragging the heavy bound orc with them.