Annunghil

​


 

He was still young when it happened. Once united and mighty, they were divided and weakened. Factions were established, swords were forged in secret and dark whispers spread; words of treason and rebellion. Lies. It had been Morgoth who sowed the seeds, but the Noldor took care of the harvest.

They had bitterly paid for each their wrongs.

Makanárë had returned to Imladris after ten days on the road, ten days of slipping through woods and scouting under cover of darkness. Her eyebrow twitched in annoyance as she rode through the Gates of Imladris, on an evening when the stars were again veiled by shadow. She had a report for Lord Veryacáno - truly nothing more than a perfunctory record of where and when she had patrolled - there were some signs of brigands and patrolling Orcs upon the road west of the Last Bridge, but that was all. Nothing out of the ordinary.

At the Hithaeglir, Annúngil paid Thendryt little heed, too absorbed in his duties to mind his presence. However, it was more of a presence of absence. The man came and gone as he saw fit and his superiors commanded. When he was at the encampment, Thendryt kept to himself, as far as he could from the Eldar.