The sound of horse hooves pounding against the earth resounded. At exhilerating speeds, the small group of riders thundered across the hilly, boulder ridden landscape. Each rock could hide a new threat, another machination of the Dark Lord Morgoth. These riders knew this, for they scouted this area every day. The darkness of the Thrangorodrim's fumes touched this land; though it was broken and thin compared to the foot of the Iron Mountains.

Follows from: https://laurelinarchives.org/node/54739  This is a quick little bit from a series I was asked to embark on to give insight into the character's background

11 - Stab them, hack them, put them in the grave

(this fragment of my story is dated approximately 1 year prior to current Bar-en-Acharn's doings and adventures)

Spring was sweet and crisp in the hidden valley of Tumladen. Summer was short and cool in the streets of Ondolinde. Autumn was just a passer-by for the cold winter season. Sinilatamo did not like the sudden changes of climate characteristic of Echoriath, remembering the mild temperatures of Vinyamar near the sea. He preferred to spend as much time indoors as he could when the weather decided to be capricious, especially when it threatened rain. If he could. That day, he made an exception on behalf of a friend.

A Most Clever Girl… (or, “Birds of a Letter Flock Together…”)