adunzil

It was a quiet, unassuming night as he made his climb up the shrub covered slopes of the hill towards the dark and brooding pine tree forest above and the remains of once grand fortress that stood perched upon the hilltop for many long forgotten years. 
 

Adunzil stood in the shadow of a cherry tree, his gaze lingering for a long time now on the cold stone of a burial cairn before him. What few leaves remained gently rustled on the light western wind. Another one fell slowly, upon the greatest stone.

Stone itself is of no importance, but that which stood inscribed on it was still sending daggers through his heart. One crudely inscribed word, but it is more than enough.

Galathir

She had gone to Cardolan to seek out an old friend who’s wise words might help her but instead she found a host of her friends gathered with many others for what reason she could not fathom.  Amlarad, Oldgrove, Adunzil, Noruien.   Had she missed some summons?

Never did I believe that I would find myself comforted among the devices of the Enemy. But here we are, licking our wounds around a campfire among the Enemy's perch, and yet we quietly restrain our sense of triumph with grim thoughts of the coming trials. It's a sobering exercise. I sit here and write all that I can recall before my own unease and fatigue will lose them to sluggishness. 

Suilad, Hir Halbarad.

I apologize in delay before sending the first report. The  Eldar host has arrived at Lin Giliath in good order, though it is certain that the Enemy already knows of their coming. Impressive a sight though their waving banners and loud horn-calls might be; it can have done nothing but alert our enemies to their presence.

Adunzil snaps small twigs and feeds the fire. I observe his graceful, spare movement through half-closed eyes as we change our watch and I prepare for sleep. The air is cool, though not too chill, the half-moon westering as night continues.

I shrug further into my cloak and hood. The night is peaceful, we are close enough to Nenuial for the eyes of our folk to keep the land quiet. I feel safe, as though held in the palm of my father, cradled by the solid earth and roofed by the trees.

Thamas Lorn, 44th day of Echuir

I had ter pay thirty copper coins fer that bath! But after an hour with that stinky Finch ... i had ter get the stink o' him off my hair, an' the filth o' his hogs offen my boots.

But Steora swifthand is a clever lass ... so I still made a few coin on the deal. An' I aint givin' the money back to the Burnt Man!

So Gyth's Burnt Man orders me ' Steora, you up an' go an' find The Finch.' An' I knows what He is like iffen I says no ... so I has to go down ter the Mud Gate through all that pig-filth and find him.

Such a gathering! To see so many folk of the star together. I do not know how long it has been since we met in such a number. I should ask Oldgrove - he prides himself on history. Perhaps he will recall it.

A gathering by chance at the shore of the lake at Tinnudir, though Adunzil and I had hastened there at Filrean's call some days earlier. A hard fast ride for me. The pain that results from so many hours in the saddle, offset by the thrill and ease of movement that being a-horse always brings.