Veryacano

It all started with rain.

Anglachelm was awaiting a word from Eregion for a week. The whole Hammer company was fighting there and the most recent reports about their whereabouts were not so accurate. Hammer quartermastery was sending more letters to the valley about their supply needs than the command itself. All these stalemate and blurry news were discomforting Tur of Vanimar beyond measure.

Elloen's Journal, first page:

First of all, I do not write to my journal all the time. I only do that when I feel I have something important to remember. My mother Sírewen used to do so – but unfortunately I had no chance to take it with me, because it all happened so fast. But at least whatever happened to me in Middle-Earth, the Elves that are close to me will get to read about it later.

– Elloen Furinmír, Second Age 1708, Imladris

Return to Former Home

I returned to the Valley to find the Last Homely House almost the same as it was when I left it, with the trees around waving mournfully in the rising east wind, a promise of the end of my Lord Anglachelm.

Laurelindo was sitting in the middle of his own bags, a simple tent standing around him... So simple actually that it was ready to fall after not even 2 hours. He would have to do it properly in the morning... If he or anyone else really cared about it at the time that is.

His mind was replaying the day's events, beginning with the assembly of those who left Imladris that day :

We stood upon the city walls, looking eagerly to the east for the rising of the sun. Most folk were quietly awaiting the Gates of Summer, though there was a subdued chatter, and merry laughter amongst some of the children. I remember smiling at a nearby group, recalling when I had been that small, and that eager.

Berion nudged me and grinned. 'That was us barely fifty years ago?'