For now, the tale returns to Thorneth and the Fellowship of Last Hope, as it is not yet time to detail that final battle. The Company stayed with the Hobbits for two nights, and on the morning after that second night, they made preparations to resume their journey. Accompanying them were the twin brothers Broco and Falco Underhill, the hunters who had first taken Caranhelf to the nook where they hid the mare.

III

(written from Histealdo's pov)

Histealdo glimpsed the new "resident" of the havens standing near a low stone wall, staring at something that seemingly only he could see. He had a couple brief conversations since the young ellon (Naergon he recalled) came to be a semi-permanent resident of his home. He had no objection when his niece asked to host her friend until he made the decision to sail West. He understood, being torn himself for a time after his brother took the ship. 

[OOC: A text-based RP session between Ningear (N) and Gloreloth (G).]

The Isle of Balar, F.A. 540

(G)

The lonely figure drew his cloak tighter about him and gazed north, over the shores where Sirion met the sea, beyond the tossing green willows of Nan-Tathren, just beneath the ranks of menacing cloud that obscured the stars. His Elven eyes saw the dim shadows of mountains, but his memory saw further - snowy peaks encircling a green vale, in the center of which a white city gleamed in the sun.

...Silaria insisted on following him. Cruelty didn't seem to matter in this case. She remained convinced she belonged to him; even when Maedhros hunted with his eagle as fast as he could, she ran after him, trudging along until she was covered with yellow dust with bits of grass threaded into her light hair.
 People laughed at her curled up with a blanket in the chilly night air, and soon they were laughing at him. They said that he had a white-haired slave. That she was a know-nothing. Useless.
"Go away," Maedhros cried. "Leave me be."

[OOC: A text-based RP session between Ningear (N) and Gloreloth (G).]

A Library in Gondolin

(N)

Some Elves are working quietly, the scratching of feathers on parchment can be heard. Every now and then a melodious voice speaks a few words and another answers. Laughter and song can be heard through the windows, depending on the direction of the wind.