Dorthonion

A gust of wind.
Whispers in the grass.
The breath of Ard-Galen.
Whispers in the grass.
If the meadows stop breathing,
Valariandë will fall, they say.
A gust of wind.
Whispers in the grass.
I can hear it…
The breath of Ard-Galen.

He was looking over a rolling valley which reached far to the horizon, and he covered his eyes from the sharp morning light that shined on his balcony. He had eaten breakfast and he was ready to take a closer look in Dorthonion. ”Telpenaro, was it?”, a voice called from behind. ”The recruits are expected to meet downstairs”, he added. The Elf he saw was the sarge, and Telpenaro followed him.

Telpenaro had grown to his full stature, being confident with his young eagerness still present. His father knocked his door. ”Come in, ada”, Telpenaro said and Erendo smiled as he opened the door. ”Son, you have advanced tremendously, and you have reason to be proud of yourself”, he said. Telpenaro answered: ”Thank you, ada. Do you have something else to say to me, though?”