Elf

((This is the story as was told to Faurilion by his father, known by him and those he told it.))

A great flash lit up the sky and blinded the surrounding area for an instant, followed immediately by an immense roar.

The wind coming down from the valley was beginning to get colder for the elf as he sat by the fire he had just lit, enough branches on the ground in the area he chose to settle for the night to make a decent enough fire.

Below is a brief musing on the second Sack of Doriath, a disturbing event from Aduialant's youth. She prefers to never speak of it, but composing poetry is oft a method of catharsis for the lady.