Anglachelm

On the 24th day, we left that swampy part of the Tauremorna when Lord Veryacano led us away under the trees and across a small river to the southeast. He seemed puzzled, as if something he expected never came into sight, and would often pull out the map that he copied from Grimbold’s men, and stare at it blankly.

There being no way to cross the fords of the Isen, because of the invasion of Men, it was determined by Lord Veryacano that we would make our own crossing, and he bravely waded into its icy waters to secure a rope bridge. The River Isen is large and swift-flowing; and it was with great difficulty Lord Veryacano got through it: sometimes he would be in the waters up to his neck, but by good fortune, and his mighty strength, he was able to cross over.

It was a good morning to go search for some fresh eggs. I had seen a wild hen walking around when we arrived, and there she was again. I do not think she was happy of me taking her eggs, but the Elves in the camp were waking up and there would be nothing better for them to have with their bread than eggs and some tea from Rivendell, from the very last leaves of it. I also used a kettle to get some cleaner looking water from the nearby stream – it would be all boiled, after all.

The 15th day we left the Gravenwood, crossing through it not far from where I was caught in the accursed orc mangling trap. It was to the Gap of Rohan that we were bound, to recover Lord Anglachelm, at least, that was the idea.

I am lying on the ground somewhere in Dunland, trying to sleep next to some of the House of Vanimar, instead of my comfortable bed in Rivendell or Lórien. So how did this happen? When I first entered the house, the people I met after Lord Anglachelm were of the Order of Hammer. When the events started to go rough on them, I felt like I needed to make myself useful for them as a warrior that I am.

Parnard lay in a half-dream, his thoughts back in Imladris, beside the warmth of the fires. Earlier that day, the elves reached a ruined dwelling, roofless, its timbers brittle, charred. Yet another farmstead, burned down to the foundations. Even in this vast wilderness, hundreds of miles from any elvish settlement, those savages had found them, and had cut them down a few feet from their doorstep. Gnawed bones lay scattered around. When the scent of slaughter is wafted on the breezes, bands of hungry Wargs hasten from every side to the feast.

To lady Rainith and the folk of Imladris,

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.

The fairest gift of strength is clemency

If the weak offend;

So kindly do not punish me

For having the fault of a friend.

When an ambassador leaves a court in a hurry, there is much talk, especially when this news comes following the tragic event of the ambassador’s lord falling into the hands of the enemy. It was now clear to most everyone in the Valley that Parnard had objected to the plans of the Lord Veryacano, for he had declared often, publically and privately, that it was a most reckless act of desperation that ought to have been reconsidered, but alas!