Vanimar

''It has been fifteen days since we left the Valley of Imladris. We have finally reached the western passes leading into the Gap of Rohan, following the news given to us by the ranger Artewen. She claims to have seen the company holding Lord Anglachelm captive has gone south through here. We have found western one of the two passes blocked by a barricade and an orc camp was spotted nearby.

It seems to be hours since I left lord Estarfin and Turmagor to go to sleep. And still sleep evades me as the past two days events keep coming to my mind. Oh, alright, not all these days’ events. Just some of them.

How Parnard basically owes his life to the fact he was suffering from more than one arrow wounds to beginning with and how I didn’t noticed the state of Parnard’s ankle, which could have healed badly, provoking a permanent fragility of the joint, chronic pain and blood circulation problem.

He stood apart from the others, the faint glow of the fire still visible from the copse of stunted trees that he stood in. The rain had ceased its downpour hours ago but his cloak was still wet through, clinging to his light armour and inner layers of clothing. He stood still, leaning against the rough bark of one of the nameless trees, silent, uncomfortable and cold in his wet clothing. Drops of rain fell on him from time to time, a residue of the storms still left upon the dark leaves of the tree.

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!

Parnard ran on, keenly alive to the new sights and smells of this new land – on and on, chanting an ancient song under his breath, in time to his paces.

Sing the joys of vagabonding,

All that’s beautiful travels far.

Elves have an inexhaustible stock of songs and ballads, but this air was rude and simple, consisting of only a few notes. It was one of the songs sung in the Greenwood when he was young. He had not thought of it for years. Why now did he remember it, singing it to himself?

Even the moon colored pearl

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.

His heavy boots crunched slowly along the pile of scree at the bottom of the hill as he trudged after the others. There was no spring to his step, no sense of the furious purpose he had possessed only hours before. He had been robbed of his relentless drive by the demands of battle and the anger that had burned inside of him like a consuming flame. For now his hatred has been assuaged, quenched in the blood of these lowest of Men. For what are the Men of this land but little more than mindless beasts? A land of Men looked down upon even by the other Kingdoms of Men. Gondor, Rohan.

The Ranger Baradír pulled out a stack of maps from a dusty shelf and smoothed them out on the table before him. “This is one of our best, drawn only a decade ago. It completely renders all the lands and roads of Rhovanion, in proper scale, and includes both major and minor settlements, all clearly labeled." Parnard gave it a cursory glance, munching on a cheese wheel stuck on the end of his eating-knife.

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.