Limiriel

Liscë halted his horse and tugged on the reigns of Limiriel’s enormous grey stallion. His own rowan mare shrank back as the giant horse came to a restless stop next to her. Chomping on his bit, the horse threw its head back with a snort. His rider was slumped over, tied into her saddle with leather twine. Unbound blonde braids spilled over his neck, tanging with his black mane.

“Ada!”

Bouncing golden curls were swept back as her father’s arms reached out to her and threw her into the warm evening air.

He smelled of pine and left a smudge of resin on her blue dress that she would sniff at for weeks.

“Yaulë!” Silver laughter in her ear as he held her close before setting her down onto the dusty floor of his workshop. “What mischief have you done now?”

She giggled into her hands and pulled out a small silver hammer.

Golden-green ivy twined madly around the intricate leaves and berries carved into the balustrade of the airy balcony. Falling leaves of mallyrn danced slowly with one another as they made their stately decent to the pathways of Caras Galathon.

Why all this to-do? he asked Dolthafaer.

My Lord,

It is my duty, as your most faithful, and most bounden servant, to make known to your lordship an account touching upon our time spent in the Hithaeglir, that the truth of the account may give you both knowledge and, I hope, great satisfaction.

No refreshment save battercake and wine, and standing on the walls of Hrimbarg Keep, I looked outward, staring at the sky, hoping for some glimpse of the lights in the darkling. Night comes on apace here in the far North.

Thendryt was being followed. He knew it. Small sounds in the dark, other sharp sounds when he was alone. Which Elf was it? Had to be one from Vanimar.
He looked at the Vanimar Elves. Which one? He needed to know. But how? He left a trail too great to be able to be able to fool the Elf. Unless… He casually glanced out the window of Hrimbarg. The snow was whirling in the blizzard outside. He smiled. Perfect.
Thendryt equipped his gloves. The fur under the plate would be tested, he knew, but he’d endure it. He had endured worse.

Perhaps, the Arrow lord reflected, as a hard gust of wind hit his back with enough force to make the sure-footed elf stumble, I should have lingered in the keep.