Ashes of old

Yes, after all those years, Angmar is the same as he remembered. He got to his old camp site. Everything is covered in blown up dust and ashes. With his hands he wipes his old equipment free of this dirt. Then he looks around, to see if none has followed him. Luckily nothing to see, no foes, nor friends. 

He lets his body drop a bit, and he sits half on the floor. Relalas softly whispers: "It's good to see you, my old home. Many years you have provided shelter against the harsh environment and concealment against the dark servants." 

 

 

 

Relalas sighs a bit, and finds some old lembas. He doesn't take the chance and discards them again. His left this place long ago, after scouting here for the Laiquendi Order. In the name of Lord Seifor he watched the progresses of the orcs and the Angmarians with sharp eyes. There was no room for tenderness, no music, happiness or joy. In those years only darkness and fear took the best of him. For 9 years he was away from the Laiquendi Sanctuary. The home he always loved, and he prayed to Elbereth that he would return soon. 9 years... 9 years, and never was this place discovered. Who could think that after all that time one single crebain could blow my cover... 

Relalas sighs again thinking of the quick departure, in the middle of the night - even though it didn't matter, night and day... never was the sun to be seen. He fled, hearing wargs and orcs behind him, trying to track him down.

For minutes turned into hours, hours into days, had Relalas traveled to reach the border Angmar. There he saw the sun again, for it was dawn before he passed the last walls of that dreaded place. A tear did run past his cheek, not of happiness, but of sadness: when he saw the sun, it did nothing to him. He saw flowers and heard birds sing... NOTHING!!! 

 

With a broken heart he ventured forth towards his "home", the Laiquendi Sanctuary. 

Alas, when he arrived after many days, he saw the gardens were untended, the doors were half loose... he entered the sanctuary and... nothing... all elves where away. Relalas sat on an chair, the one that had belonged to his lord Seifor. He cried, cried for a long time. 

This was the final blow to his heart, the blow that destroyed his soul. He then left the sanctuary and choose the path as hermit. He choose wilderness instead of a social city.

 

Never would he feel home somewhere, never shall he feel love of Eldar again. Perhaps the wilds could bring balance into his life...

 

Relalas sighs for one last time. This was a long time ago... 

Farewell, camp site... farewell.

 

He stands up and walks away, leaving his old "home" as a prey for dust and ashes.