Belethoriel

“They still have prisoners in the mines. The Rift of Nûrz Ghâshu.”

It was then that Dolthafaer started to believe that he would meet his end in Angmar.

The door swung upon and Parnard strode into the room. He was dressed more formally this day, in flowing robes dyed a blue so deep that it was almost black, wearing a delicate silver diadem that glinted on his brow.

“What might be the date?” he asked, pushing aside a stack of papers.

Cúrandir flexed a wrist idly, staring out over the black void that yawned beneath him. Five or six other elves were gathered around on the ashen-grey bluff behind him, all talking in hushed voices. He glanced at the other archer standing guard for the company - Dolthafaer, he had said his name was. Cúrandir had to admit that the other ellon had a way with the bow that spoke of centuries more experience than even he possessed.

Meanwhile, as Belethoriel and his men continued their search for the missing Themodir, Parnard kept himself very busy.

Many things happened in very short time.

We are now in Angmar. The way to the doors of Angmar was... mostly peaceful surprisingly enough.

The day after we arrived, Ancalasse found us at the campsite. But then we separated. Lord Belethoriel went to the settlement of men, Aughaire. The rest of us went to find water.

The hillman had stood at the edge of a cliff, pointing to a distant mountain range, black against the blood-red sky.  The cold bite of the northern wind had been nothing compared to the chill in his next words. 

“A winged host of worms.”

The trail of the orc host – and the prisoners they caried – had gone cold, and they had had little choice but to barter with this crude man of Aughaire for information that might save them days of wandering aimless in Malenhad.  But the price for that information had been steep. 

The day… Well, it's a bad day I believe. Oh yes, it began well. Until the group heard about an elf possibly lost in the area where we saw the trolls when we arrived here. Then they left.

And they come back… With Failindo's body. He's dead. I have known him for so many years… Since the fall of Eregion, around 3000 years ago. He was my dearest friend and my family, as I was his.

Dolthafaer was not sure what he thought of Belethoriel.

He had served under many elves in his time – some he liked, some he barely tolerated for the sake of duty – but never one so distant, so reserved. 

Any stranger who happened upon their party might assume that Ancalasse was their leader, planning their course and bellowing out orders with a boisterous energy that reminded Dolthafaer of a hundred other sergeants and captains he had known, or even soft-voiced Laurelindo, who had been sent forth twice now to speak to the men that they encountered. 

I cannot believe how stupid I was when we left Imladris. Of all the things to forget, I left my sword on my desk. I mean… My sword ! I know I'm bad with a sword and that if I need to use it, chances are that I'll have better chance if I drop the sword and run for dear life but to forget it as I did… Stupid. Completely stupid !