Beleriand

On the banks of river Narog, a group of elves stood guard around an entourage of Nargothrondim including princess Finduilas and Lord Celebrimbor. It was the princess' idea that they would take a breath of fresh air, away from the heat and smoke of the forge for him and away from court intrigue for her, away from any dark thoughts that the recent turmoil caused by the death of King Finrod might bring. Said group of elves from the city had spread towels, picnic baskets and were enjoying the chill of the water, some swimming, a couple fishing.

A heavy, cold, icy veil of dread covered the fair city of Ondolinde, the sky colored steel grey barely let any sunlight in, clouds black as storm loomed ominously near, yet no sound of thunder could be heard. Even the wind stopped blowing and the Echoriath looked like jagged teeth of steel. The only gust of wind the people of Ondolinde felt all day had been Thorondor, the King of the Eagles bearing the body of High King Nolofinwe to them. He deposited their late King on a mountaintop overlooking the city, telling the tale of his bravery and recklessness to Turukano.

5th hrívë, present days

Eärcalië led her horse out of the wood and down the gravelly path to Maeth’s house. She found him chopping the oaken logs in his back yard, she hopped off the horse and run to him presenting the bundle of wildflowers. He stared at them blinking, for a long while not saying anything.

Nevrast had a gloomy climate. It rained frequently, the pouring rains only increased the more dank and mellow atmosphere the sea and mountains provided. Yet, this was a place many of the Noldor considered home. It was summer, and Mystarennye and her friend Alasiel had traversed to a less popular region, inland, away from their usual home in Vinyamar.

~The Song of Tinnurion~

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Wind of remorse... Wind of horror, and memory.

A cold wind hit his face once he had reached a higher viewpoint upon the Andram.