Furley clambered up the hill in the dark, desperate to get away. He could barely see anything in the darkness, and he saw no pathway or footholds in front of him. In fact, he saw nothing. All he knew was that he had to get away, and as the earth underneath him kept dislodging under his boot and rolling away down the hill, he knew they would track him easily. 

She looked up at the architecture of the walls she was guided in. It had been... a long time since she was brought here. The woman looked through the fabric of her grubby hood, at the purple stain glass windows and the shadows and silhouettes of guards shifting through the many halls. She knew every pathway here, even if the last time she set foot in this place was two decades ago. Two long decades...

Ruadan stood among a company of elves and a few men, his garb of natural colours gave him away as one of the pathfinders who kept watch beyond the Gates of Imladris. As he moved around the encampment he gave greeting in Sindarin to the elven maethor who were returning from their watch to be fed and watered before heading to other duties.

Lindamar presents a music performance through which is shared the telling of how the world came to be, and of the music and work of the Ainur that made it so.

The event was held on June 6th, 2021.

The programme of AInulindalë

[Opening speech]

”Who are you?”

Dear father, I must report quite the detour from the usual trade routes. Linglorel, the wood elf I spoke of from the previous entry, has requested my assistance in a sort of quest. Now, I know you would scoff at the idea of offering my services for free, and rightly so! But there is great potential profit in this.