Tindir

A new day was here, and I was once again hunting for some game for us to eat. I caught a boar, and I took some ribs from it, cooking it on a fire. I cutted the ribs to separate bones and served it to others. Lord Tindir hesitated at first. ”No more sausages, please”, he said. ”Sausages? I suppose they taste like that”, I said. I knew that some Men used boar for sausages, so I understood why he would say so.

Tonight I sit sleepless, and look into the night about me, dark, terrible things lurk there, and often the dread comes over me, that I feel my reason is overpowered, and my senses are bewildered. Abandoned to evil spirits, we are, we who followed because duty demanded it, because we swore to serve. How can we believe that our well-doing has availed anything? All our labors have met with failure, all good for nothing. We only seem to fill up every place with our trouble and strife. Behold the works of the proud Noldor!

While sitting next to a bush, waiting to see if something else would happen, my thoughts were  going in circle over the events of the day. I already completed a list of the plants and healing supply I used and I was currently contemplating just leaving the camp on my own in search for some heal herbs that were quite easy to find in any area with no extreme weather.

Parnard lay in a half-dream, his thoughts back in Imladris, beside the warmth of the fires. Earlier that day, the elves reached a ruined dwelling, roofless, its timbers brittle, charred. Yet another farmstead, burned down to the foundations. Even in this vast wilderness, hundreds of miles from any elvish settlement, those savages had found them, and had cut them down a few feet from their doorstep. Gnawed bones lay scattered around. When the scent of slaughter is wafted on the breezes, bands of hungry Wargs hasten from every side to the feast.

The grey light of dawn did little to lift his spirits as he shivered and brushed the morning dew from his armour, feeling the cold water soak into the leather of his gauntlets as he did so. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he looked around the camp searching for the remains of a fire to warm himself with. Seeing nothing, he cursed to himself and stood slowly, stretching his limbs and testing his shield arm. It still felt weak but it was not seriously damaged at least. He peered around at his companions; some were sleeping still, a few were sitting and sorting through their gear.

The fairest gift of strength is clemency

If the weak offend;

So kindly do not punish me

For having the fault of a friend.

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.

Himwen turned around. The round room was mildly lit with candles and the fireplace harboured a mellow fire. The flames licked the bottom of a black small cauldron as though it hungered for the contents puttering above.

She looked at the chair next to the fireplace. He had been resting in it for a long time, but thankfully he was now walking around the valley. She sighed of relief, thankful that he was on the mend. The wounds had been great, but he was a hardy soldier. An ellon with determination to survive.

I was a fresh recruit in the ranks of Bar-en-Vanimar when disaster struck the House, and two of its soldiers were slain in lands south.