Dunedain

Anger. Anger and Fury. The Woman looked at the lake once more and cursed to herself in Sindarin. Her worthless band had failed to show up consecutively now, and their absence drove her mad with fury and longing for companionship. Her friendship with Furlaf had faded, and even her relationship with Boen was going downhill. Only Cyneburga was her only friend.

Finally the letter she had been waiting for and also dreading slightly had arrived, she quickly skimmed over it and noted the name at the bottom, worry now took her as she reread the details.

Addressed to Filrean Gwathir,

Your letter for Captain Tarmagiel has found its way upon myself, to which this cause has now become a matter most serious.  Your course of action is close to being of an insubordinate nature, though we are not of the military strength we once were you are to be held accountable for such. 

 Earth beneath my feet is wet and mushy. My boots sink slightly in it, leaving a barely visible track among the yellow grass. I don´t mind that, since there won´t be a trace left for anyone to follow, unless they happen to be those shiny folk Azrudaur speaks of with such loathing. No...he is lord Azrudaur... I ought to remember to give him that respect. After all, he had earned it.

"And in the halls,

Halls of the West

Remain the Men

Who do not rest.

*Five years ago*