Noldor

My lad brings me warm spiced wine and sets it beside me. A good day's ride. He kneels, unfastens and removes my mud be-spattered boots. A comely lad, and in my favour. He looks up at me with a smile as I taste the wine, knowing he has flavoured it exactly as I require.

I glance down at him. A fast, exhilarating ride to this camp, warmth awaiting me. I am in a mellow mood this evening. He sees it - and I wait for the inevitable questions.

'The war goes well, m'lord?'

              Then he rode towards the next town, under the guise of a Merchant. Wrappings of the dead Easterling saved him many times in the face of the danger but speaking in the local language was not easy for the elf. As some words of the easterling language was very hard to cope for him. Extensive use of throat in speaking was annoying and sometimes giving hints about his true identity. Nevertheless, Anglachelm tried to speak Rhûn as well as he could.

       "..Beyond all danger and cruelty of the world, Falathlorn was having a serene morning... Battles, fires and the darkness of the enemy were still far away. Goblins were pushed back to their holes long ago. Travellers and free peoples could be able to pass through the great eastern road without harassment. Awakening of evil in the east was a distant rumour, and the black riders were nothing more than a tale for its inhabitants.

Si lasto enni! Narathon narn o lhû io anann,
Now listen to me! I will tell a story from a time long ago,
ir i Ardhon neth ah i ngelaidh yrn.
when the world was young and the trees tall.
In elenath hílasser erui or aelin a thaur,
The stars shone in solitude over lakes and forests,

Echuir, ochui 'wirith - gevaith* laew

Continued from: Of the Fifth Battle, Chapter 2

Continued from: Of the Fifth Battle, Chapter 1

      Anfauglith started shaking as thousands of warriors marched. The dust clouds which covered their view started to clear away, as if it fled from the army of Himring. So, Sons of Fëanor could see the battlefield clearly, but their army had become visible to friend and foe alike, for their banners were high, their numbers great and trampling of their feet raised the sands of Anfaughlith, clearly showing the direction of the army.

Year of the Sun 472, Midsummers Day, First Age

      Plains of the north were in darkness. A black cloud coming from over the impassable peaks of Thangorodrim smothered the plains of Anfauglith. Dust clouds raised by the ominous winds of North deemed it impossible see but a few hundred yards away. Yet still, sunlight managed to make its way through the gray clouds and the dust storm, and shone upon the hearts of the Noldor, giving them hope.