Sindar

I looked upon the stranger as if he came out of a vision, a dream, an omen. In the quiet of the forest, where all the noises are familiar to me, there was one I could not recognize. I hid behind a tree, alert and afraid and I waited. I kept my gaze on a patch of darkness in front of me, my eyes used to see through the faint light of rānā and the stars. I held my breath as the darkness slowly receded and a halo made its way towards me. 

((This is the story as was told to Faurilion by his father, known by him and those he told it.))

Wind of remorse... Wind of horror, and memory.

A cold wind hit his face once he had reached a higher viewpoint upon the Andram.

((for the previous part of the story, click here))

"Thus ended the Siege of Angband; and the foes of Morgoth were scattered and sundered one from another. The most part of the Grey-elves fled south and forsook the northern war."

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.

Elvealin knocked on the door of her parent's house in Lothlórien, wondering if they were home. Her father opened the door with a smile but also with a look of a surprise, since her presence in the Golden Wood was unannounced. But there was no doubt that they were happy to see her.