"Beneath a starlit sky a boy is born, he is looked upon by his father, who decides that he wishes his son to grow strong, to fight for what is right, and to weave his path amongst the spirits he will meet along the way. Thus he names him Faernathron.
Proudly does he present his boy to those gathered, praise is given, both to the mother for giving birth to a healthy child, and to the father, for choosing such a strong name.
Many are those wishing the boy well on his path through life, for many are the friends gathered under the stars." - Faernathron, History of a Warrior
The moon shines above the trees, yet below them all is quiet, the shadow now claims these parts, and though there are still meadows where the pale light of the moon reach to touch the ground, no beast wanders there, for it is wrought with the peril of death to be seen.
A lone figure stands under a tree, his eyes skimming his surroundings, ever again coming to rest on the tracks of the orc patrol he is giving chase.
A small smile plays across his features, they do not know they are beset by a foe yet.
A single crow caws in the forest as the hunt continues, within a short time the gruff voices of the orc becomes audible,
and soon the lone warrior sees his prey, daggers are checked, an arrow is notched and let fly.
The forest comes to life with the sound of battle as the first orc is struck in the back of the head, and the others rush to fight this foe in the darkness.
Faernathron draws both daggers, his smile turning into a grin as he enters the fray, slashing left and right, while dancing gracefully under first one, then the other of the crude weapons of the orc.
Minutes pass, the battle rages, yet, also a strange laughter can be heard, for in battle Faernathron finds joy, and his taunts ring out across the dark "Come, taste the blade that once slew orcs far greater in number than you!"
Soon nothing is left but corpses, Faernathron quickly examines them to see if they hold any valuable information, he knows as he closes on the fortress, more patrols will roam, knowing their routes, would be a help.
Finding but stale food and unusable scraps of armour and weapons, Faernathron leaves the scene of the fight, a silent whisper escapes his lips "Come feast upon your enemies...", it is clearly adressed to the wild beasts of the forest, who now have an easy meal.
Silence falls once more upon the forest.
Once more walking alone under the trees Faernathron meakes his way east, he now knows he is closing on the orc camps beneath the walls of the ancient fortress, he knows that danger will soon lurk everywhere, but he needs to be sure before he heads back to Thangúlhad.
Crouching silently under a tree, he observes the rolling hills ahead, seeing that there are a few orc encmpments with wooden fortifications, but most are simply stakes in the ground, a fire lit to banish the dark, and ever present, the smell of rot and decay.
He spends a few hours surveying the lands, then makes his way back towards Thangúlhad, escaping once more into the safety of the Malledhrim stronghold.
The last haven before the darknes that is Dol Guldur.
Faernathron had not spent long at thangulhad, replenishing his supplies, getting some oil for his weapons and mending his armour, before one of the resident Malledhrim came looking for him, "Hîr?, I have been asked to convey to you, that the Lady wishes to see you as soon as you may return to her city."
Looking up, Faernathron simply nodded, packing his saddlebags he made his way to the stable to retrieve his horse, and as the sun set, he headed west through the forest, keeping near to the paths known to be safe, if the lady calls, one does not hunt orc for the sport of it.
Riding trough the night and day, Faernathron came at last to the banks of the Anduin, and swiftly found a boat to take him and his horse over the great river and into the golden forest, he greeted old friends, said hello to new, and made his way up to the city, there once more relinquishing his horse at the stables.
Walking under the flets and golden leaves a calmness settled over him, yes, it was good to be home, even though he had not been born here.
Faernathron made it slowly to the garden of lady Galadriel, her aides having pointed him there. Yet, she was not there upon his arrival, so he settled in, and awaited her return.
Faernathron closed his eyes and let the sounds of trickling water, the humm of birds and insects settle over him, finding a calm he only rarely knew these days.
Time seemed to stand still here.
Lady Galadriel approached the calm warrior, seeing the serenity on his face, and silently regretting that she once more had to send this lone fighter out into the darkness,
the darkness settled upon the world beyond her beloved forest, yet, she knew time was drawing nigh when all elves would abandon these halls underneath the mallorn trees,
sadness was in her voice when she adressed him, "Faernathron, rise, walk with me." Opening his eyes, Faernathron bowed and fell into step next to Galadriel, waiting for her to speak on the matter that she had called him here for.
"I mustsend you west for now, but only as far as Ered Luin, where I need you to convey a message to the master of Celondim, tell him to prepare the vessel, he will know what is meant," Galadriel paused smelling a flower before continuing, "then I want you to head to Imladris, paths are crossing there, and I wish for you to walk upon them. Make haste, for time is of the essence."
Faernathron bowed his head, "as you wish hîril, is there anyone in particular I need find in Imladris?"
"Know but this, there are other forms of darkness than the one you battle, yet there are some who brave even that, without despair or defeat. Find that darkness, and protect it."
Galadriel smiled and offered her hand, Faernathron bowed once more before the lady, "I shall set out at once." taking lady Galadriel's hand he promised to follow her bidding, as always.
The golden lady merely smiled, as she watched the warrior retreat towards the stables, setting out in haste at the bidding of his queen.
