Hûd i Eledhrim (Hall of Fire Wednesday)

It was late afternoon in the valley when Kennet advanced along the paths of Rivendell, flanked by colorful trees. The smell of dampness was palpable even though it had not rained all day, and a feeling of being in a paradisiacal wild forest flooded him, despite the fact that he was walking through the interior of the elven enclave.

It has now been some days since I was in the House of Elrond, having been sent there on an errand by my allies in Esteldín.  I confess that I was afraid, for never before had I met so many of the Fair Folk, nor stayed in their halls.  Sire Angild would on occasion trade with the Fair Folk of the Greenwood, but seldom, and never did I accompany him to those far distant borders.

In the valley of eve,

Fell the sun into sorrow.

The silver stars laid low,

Yet by darkling sky ungrieved.

Crimson was the still dawn,

The wind wailed down, the clear lake

Shone red in evil’s wake,

Yet none by the shore did mourn.

O forsaken land, o failing breath,

O fallen kin and cursed waste,

O unhappy fate I would embrace,

Yet by ill fortune scorned by death.

It was a warm summer's night in the Valley. As the Sun set, we  proceeded into the Hall of Fire where we gather to tell stories and share songs.