cirdan

I walked out of the Halls, aware of the heavy wooden door swinging closed and the guards bidding us farewell.

Even the fittest of elves was likely to be just a little winded by the time they reached Lord Cirdan’s Halls. The design of Mithlond, against the cliff face, was a series of levels, such as favoured by many an elven architect. Each could be more easily defended by attack from the land or the sea. I thought then these Havens had never been taken. The ones before, at the mouth of the Sirion, were taken by our own. Estarfin among them. 

It happened the second time, as I left the Hall of Lord Cirdan. Something I could not explain. 

There was a sound of horns in the distance, as of one blowing into great seashells that echoed the music of the sea, the beauty, the yearning for home..aye even home beyond Valinor. True home it was that sounded through the waters. 

Lightning peeled open the sky and thunder boomed across the hellish landscape. Flames from the desperate push of armies lit the night sky as smoke billowed in green and red hues. The warrior, sword and shield raised, blocked the attacks of a dozen or more iron blades that reigned down upon her. The flash of a flaming blue blade eliminated half of the orcish arms that wielded them. Side to side the elves fought as one.

We have been recalled.. Cirdan has required the Flower to return though I am not yet aquianted with the details, it was a matter of importance that we retire from our present location.

Essentially, we are on hold.. neither ready to move or disbanded.. rather simply waiting and biding our time for the perfect moment.. I can only hope that such a time is judged well.

For now.. I reside in Falathorn my spear and shield are ready for that moment of calling..