Khalis scanned over the many reports on his table in the Great Hall of the Warband, some from his own warband and others requesting the warband take on certain tasks on behalf of the Council of Imladris. All deemed their own request to be a matter of urgency over everything else.
The words on the parchments became blurred as his mind wandered to recent events. The testing of the warrior Teremonth as he sought to become one of the Leuthannen had gone well. Teremonth had demonstrated his ability to lead a small party of the warband in a testing environment.
Then there was the matter of the ancient relics and Imladris’ ongoing concern for their existence. That was still ongoing, one warband rider was waiting to be despatched to the Shire to speak with one of the hobbit notarys. His mind wandered to that of the Lady Nimlith and her companions who were travelling north to speak with the Lossoth with regards to the ancient stone in the Angmarim Fortress.
He was then brought back to the present as his mind recalled the still troubling dreams he had been having during his meditative state. The dreams were like a dark storm waiting with watchful eyes which every so often reached out into Arda to extend its influence and take another into its fold. The screams which seemed so vivid would render him instantly aware, his senses reaching out for the source but always it lied just out of reach. Sometimes he saw a figure, a blurred image of a form but never enough.
Khalis wondered if this presence was connected to the ancient relics which they had been watching over.
