The words sounded strange issuing from my mouth, yet still I gave voice to them. I urged for restraint, for her to remember who and what we are. The honour that we have fought so hard to win, and to keep; that cannot be so easily discarded. Who remains upon this darkened shore that is mightier in deed or in battle than us? The count is few indeed. Yet this night we have fallen far from such lofty claims, from glory and honour
to something far darker, far less fitting for those of our illustrious history.
I had come to think that I knew her, that perhaps she was a kindred spirit to mine. A friend? Perhaps not, for what friendship can exist between two such beings? Hard as forged steel, cold as the winds that has once blown from the forsaken north, but lit from within with the fire of the Noldor once bright swords were drawn in anger. Then our enemies would know that swift vengeance would take them from this world, to whatever fate awaits the unhappy mortals beyond the uttermost West. But that is not what has happened tonight, and it sickens me.
I could hear the screams from the prisoner that she interrogated; terrible screams of pain and loss. The sounds were reminiscent of the screams heard from Angband, the Hells of Iron. Have we fallen so low as to imitate the techniques of Morgoth Bauglir? I would weep for shame if it had been I holding the bloodied blade, but she was unrepentant in her vile excesses. Yes, her approach yielded information, but so did mine. The Man that was placed under my charge was susceptible to the pleasures of fine wine and food, and his tongue spilled secrets absent of the ministrations of one without restraint. True, Lord Tindir had to stay my hand when the prisoner attempted to run, but it was death that I had in mind for him. Clean, quick. As a warrior should treat his deadliest foes.
And so Lord Veryacano has perhaps come one step closer in his crusade to find Anglachelm. There is a fervour in his eyes that disquiets me, and no words were spoken in anger against the utterly reproachable actions of Nirhen. His silence on the matter confirms the worry that has been growing inside of me since before we left Imladris behind. No action is beyond reproach, no deed is too terrible for him. What madness will he lead us to? And who will he lead? The Hammer? We who by our own actions have doomed ourselves many times over. What have we to lose but what little honour we cling to, whether that is imagined or not? But the others that have been dragged along this course, it is for them that I grieve. Little do they know of war, and none will survive this campaign. Those who fall under the bite of iron or steel will be accounted fortunate I fear, for with each passing day the survivors will join us, step by step, in damnation. Already I have spoken against Eliriael joining us, but Belegos is blinded from the consequences of such a thing by affection. Why does he not heed my advice? Has my counsel lost all worth amongst my companions? He is a fool, blinded by affection, though such a thing would be unseemly. And Veryacano? Of course he saw fit to accept the pledge of Eliriael, for she is another tool for him to use in his machinations.
It is too late to return, to renege upon the words that I spoke in anger and grief. Yet there is another worry that gnaws upon me during the long watches of the night: is this action sanctioned by the House? Veryacano carries the title of Lord amongst us, yet was he not stripped of such authority? Who then ordered this march? Has the House of Vanimar split in two, torn between duty and vengeance?
Perhaps Nirhen is right, and I place too much value upon the illusion of honour. What is left to me after all? The blood of my own kind stains my hands, my very fëa. The notion of honour for such as us is preposterous, I see that now. Lord Veryacano will lead, and we will follow. The Valar alone know what will emerge from the ruins of these once-noble Orders. All that I know is that next time I will not hide from what is required from me, and I will stand alongside Nirhen or any of my companions as we do what must be done. This I swear, under the stars themselves.
