The air has that hint of chill to it that signifies the ‘fading’ is almost upon us. Though warm and bright have been the days of late, come aduial the stars shine in a cold, crisp sky. Some of the bird flocks are seen no longer over Lindon, having started their journeys south, to warmer climes. The land-bound animals’ fur grows thicker, and those who will spend the coming season in deep slumber are searching diligently for a place of safety to call ‘winter-home’.
As I lower my quill to glance through the arched window of the Hawk Tower, to the halls and grounds of Thamas Lorn, I am glad that I am home. Most glad am I to be back in Falathlorn once more!
‘Prruk prruk prruk…..’
As oft happens, Cugu draws me back to what I should be doing. My daydreaming is averted, as my diligent companion pecks at the paper set before me, and then struts purposefully over my desk repeating her call to attention. Only when I sigh, and turn away from that which would hold my gaze, to pick up quill again, does she fly to her perch. Her beak is still somewhat out of joint – that I did not allow her to accompany me on my travels, but took Tiri instead. How could one explain to Cugu that a white raven (who thinks she is a dove!) calls undue attention to herself, where a black one does not! She would have none of it, preferring to think Tiri had usurped her position.
Ah…birds!
From the floor above I hear the sound of fluttering, as Gaerdir tends to the three hawks and the aforementioned Tiri. The young would-be warden has made much of the trust given him in our recent absence. I could not have given better care to our messenger friends myself, had I been the one to remain. Though I know he has hopes of one day training on the very lawns overlooked from my window, I cannot help but think he has other skills – those with animals – that may serve our folk better. But such matters are down to the discretion of our Hirgonui.
And now I DO put pen to paper the words begin to flow. So much is there to say. So much has happened, so many changes! My appointed duty it is to begin keeping records of what transpires at Thamas Lorn, and also to sort through the piles of reports from ‘South Watch’, concerning their sojourn here! Alas, I shall be at my desk for many a day, when I would rather be out in the final blossoming of warm mellowness that is Firith. But such is my task, and I shirk not from it. Yet also would I begin by keeping a journal in the manner I once did, during the days of my training in Mithlond. Not since I left the Bar-en-Istedhellen have I kept a personal record. Mayhap after what has recently transpired it would be wise that I did! Mayhap it would help me keep my thoughts in better order.
Now it is in my thoughts that there are accounts from seasons past I must finish. I ponder my writing concerning my dear friend Culir, who I only saw once at Lin Giliath. I miss him greatly at times, he and his wise counsel – but I believe all is well with him, and with Linnethril and the others of the Ethiriath. Several of our scouts continue to keep close watch over the areas of recent conflict. Not that the constraining of Dol Dinen and Nan Wathren by the host who gathered there was insufficient. By no means! But where orcs and goblins are concerned one cannot be too careful. Something there is that drives them on against their nature, to be emboldened. That ‘something’ has not yet been found, though many have voiced their suspicions. Yet our scouts know what they are about, and will not be taken unaware.
But my thoughts do not linger overly on Lin Giliath. There are other matters closer to my heart at present, of which I would write.
Though there have already been days of much merriment, and that most welcome visit to the Halls of Calarind , I am aware that some of the Mithdirith are yet …a touch weary? It is Curugirion himself who concerns me most. Not that I have any place recording such thoughts, for surely our Lord-Commander knows what he is about. But the journey to Rivendell was long; the following summons to Lin Giliath merely the start of a hard and demanding campaign; the reports to write and deliver to Mithlond time-consuming, and even now…ever the diplomat…further reports… I know Curugirion oft stays awake into the small hours afore dawn, for it seems whenever I step from walking in dream and memory, the lamp is still burning in his study in the vale below. I wish I could be of greater assistance to our Hirgonui. These papers I work upon, they are but a small delegation of his necessary endeavours. Were I more skilful with my own words - better trained, I could mayhap do more? To that end I shall make it my concern to speak with my mentor, Cirthel, next I am in Mithlond. Aiiee…I know it is not my place nor usual behaviour to take such action upon myself without discussion, yet with those I care deeply about, I cannot help myself!
As for the rest of ‘Grey Watch’ – though we have all have taken what opportunity we may to rest and refresh ourselves, all seem to be most busy at present, honing and adapting skills; bearing messages to Mithlond and the other harbours along the bay, or making patrol. Indeed, I myself have ridden on patrol five times thus far since our return. One journey, with Aearandir and Cirdamir, was even as distant as Gondamon. (For Cirdamir is but of late returned with us to the coastlands, and need be shown the paths of our patrol routes.) While there, I gave greeting most cordial and made converse with Mathi Stouthand, the Master of Gondamon, yet still was no reply forthcoming from him regarding Curugirion’s letter which I delivered some time ago. It may be a matter to pursue further in the forthcoming days.
Of a sudden a loud cry of frustration breaks the peace of my sanctuary, swiftly followed by familiar and hearty laughter, and Cugu turns her head sharply to the window….’toc-toc-toc’, she chides.
I do not need to look to know, (for I must keep my attention focused or it will be I whom Cugu chides!) but rather smile to myself that another new recruit has fallen foul of Aearandir’s drill. I can picture the recruit, aghast that he has stumbled or fallen, dropped his shield or, Valar forbid….not swum fast enough…..and I can picture Aearandir, ever genial yet with that frequent hint of threatened mischief about his smile. He is also most glad to be home, I believe, though not one to let us slacken because of it. Nay, Aearandir still pushes and encourages each to attain their potential as much as he may, though also does he encourage making merry! Lin Giliath tested the Herth most thoroughly, but a harsher ‘test’ could ever be looming. I know as well as any now, that we must be fully prepared.
“Do you trust your Caun?” Aearandir had called to me but several days ago, and that when we had both been swimming in the Lhun and making race to the further shore. He meant ‘Did I trust his word that he would win the race’, which of course I would give no answer to other than try my hardest to prove him wrong, and splash him vigorously when I lost. But now I ponder that though I have not said it, I have always trusted him. Aye, I trust him with my life.
Now Durthand and I had decided to spend some of our time off duty together, and that with the purpose of having fun, and causing a little mayhem of our own off of Celondim. Closer yet have we become this last season, my dear sister and I, that I have hopes she at least will aid me in the skills of sailing yet untaught me by my uncle. I have heard enough of her ability and know well her sense of ‘humour’ to believe I would enjoy such an adventure. For my part I would teach her what little I know of herbs from my own learning, and from instruction by Gaeronant. (Who is now recalled to Mithlond for the time being, it seems.) But again, the mayhem at sea of we ‘ladies’ of the Mithdirith must wait, for Durthand was one who resumed patrol early on, and so we have not yet managed that time together, she and I. How elusive can the company of friends be when one desires it. I must learn to make better use of the time we do have.
Istuir I have seen but rarely, and he seeming to be on some mission that requires much coming and going, mayhap of Curugirion’s devising? Right merry did he seem, however. His sharp eyes twinkled with warmth when he departed Thamas Lorn that he even ‘forgot’ his usual banter of addressing me as ‘Lady’. Most glad am I that, though he fought ever bravely and in the midst of battle, his spirits are yet high. For one who knew hardly more than I did of war when the Herth departed for Rivendell, he has proven himself, and the proficiency of Aearandir’s training, many times over.
And now, before I attend to the first of ‘South Watch’s’ papers, I would make brief mention of one matter that has weighed much upon my thoughts – my parent’s request that I depart these lands with them on the high tide of Ethuil. I did eventually speak with Curugirion, though chose not the best of times to break such news. As my parents and I had suspected, he had no wish to hold me to the Mithdirith against my will though, courteous as ever, he bade me ensure I had considered thoroughly the issues involved. But he was saddened by my request. Though he said little, it was clear in his eyes he had hoped I would remain. When I spoke with Durthand she was more to the point. ‘I shall be stealing the rudders of the White Ships upon my return, that none may depart,’ said she with more than a hint of sincerity in her voice. Other conversations did I also have, and those both before and after the battles. Some nigh tore me asunder. Oh, much have I pondered.
Before Firith is over, of certainty before the first snow, I should ride to Mithlond to visit my family again and give them answer to their most reasonable and heart-felt request.
With a sigh, I nod to Cugu to return to me, to fly to the table and offer me her understanding’ for she can be a wise bird at times, and does appreciate my predicament. ‘Kraaa!’ says she with exasperation in her tone. (Look then!) Ruffling her elongated throat feathers affectionately I allow myself a moment’s self indulgence. I know without doubt what my answer will be.
