Anglachelm

The Ambassador inquired whether there would be any objection to his communicating with the prisoner. There was not. Mirdoron and Mallenhadh seemed to think nothing important would likely result, and that the skinny, mild-mannered elf seemed harmless. They waved him aside.

"I should prefer to speak to him alone, in more comfortable surroundings - perhaps the Hall of Fire? No? Well, have it your way, then." Parnard smiled affably.

“It is not your place to command me, I am free to stay or go by my own will!” Galuoneth spoke the words with a certainty that she did not feel, not when faced with the grim Noldor before her. Estarfin stood to the fore, dressed in a thick leather apron, carrying a heavy hessian sack over one shoulder, a wooden case of tools in his other hand. To his left stood Ruineth, dressed in a tabard of thick suede, turned almost black from long years spent before the forge.

When I woke up at Echad Eregion, I recalled a thing that Elvealin had told me before we departed. She and Feahelka had seen the Dunlending trying to establish a camp near Gwingris. There is some time of that but I still thought that the Lords present would appreciate the information, and so I told them.

It has been quite a long time since I was at home, and it shows. Or at least it did until I dusted and cleaned up the place.

Now I am lazily enjoying, in peace and safety, a glass of wine with a warm fire in the living room, my instruments all cared for and at their usual places. I am quite sure no one will need my skill in the minute, either as a minstrel or as a healer.

Am I lazy to think so and enjoy it ? Tonight, yes.

We reached the Valley in good time. Lord Estarfin was more quiet than usual, perhaps contemplating the making of the sword he had been charged with crafting for our Lord Anglachelm. Close by the chalk path that leads to the Valley, we met a elf lady, a soldierly-type, by the name of Limiriel.

At last Lord Anglachelm has been found! We ran after the enemy a long way, all the way from Enedwaith to Dunland, Rohan, and from Lórien to Mirkwood where he was, and here we are, back in beloved Lórien. A certain nameless Elf who he apparently knew was to be thanked for helping us to find him.

Today was a very, very long day.

It's ending is almost perfect, but the day was long to come here.

First of all, I am glad to say the party gone to kill the goblins on the road is back and that everyone is fine. I was seriously beginning to worry. But of course they were 'not that big adversaries, mainly goblins'. Well, considering where we were...

Lord Anglachelm awoke before we set off, but he refused to be kept unconscious for our travel. I was not happy about it but it was his choice to make.

My Lord has heard Lord Veryacano say that I arrived to talk the company out of searching for him. I say that this is a wrong-headed assumption, and the reasons for my accompaniment were to gather news for the remainder of the House waiting impatiently in Imladris, and secondarily, to see what resulted from his leadership.

It ends like this. Apparently.

The pain is unbearable. It burns as if Nirhen has spent the days swallowing hot coals, and fills her head and throat as if now she is choking on the smoke they let off as they eat away at her insides. She had never really considered what the ending of this might be, and now, watching them flutter like frantic birds around their golden-haired Lord, it is worse than anything they have done so far.