Elves

In her recent quest to find something to do other than moping over her misfortunes and wander like a haunted soul the paths of Imladris, Carniquesse decided to go somewhere she had never gone to before, despite it being practically next door the hidden valley.

(Please make sure to read Forest Flute | The Laurelin Archives by Legelion for the other perspective on this scene.) 

Taur-e-Ndaedelos, T.A. 2981.

The mountain wind carries their foul voices. Even further does it carry their stench. The pursuer on their tail ensures she makes no sound, bare feet taking careful steps on the stony path. She hastens. The chase nears its end. 

They came out of the ancient Dwarf-Mountain in the north. A retinue of ambassadors no doubt, dressed in their best rotting hides and assorted filthy trophy-skulls. On wolves they rode across the Vales, but now a pack of eight is left and they move on foot. Evidently the Bear-Men didn't let them escape their realm unscathed. 

((continuation of Essenya))

Three summers ago, Mithlond

The Gondolindrim had all been brimming with anticipation the whole day, now, on the eve of the first day of Summer, they all stood upon the eastern wall of the White City, waiting.

Waiting for Anar to rise and greet the first of warm, beautiful and bright days of summer, as it did for more than a century by then. Sinilatamo looked to his right, smiling at the brown haired elleth whose hand he was holding, his vanimelda*, as he called her. She smiled back, placing her index finger on her mouth to indicate they should still be silent. He nodded.