Anglachelm

The wind was particularly strong that morning, even for the plains of green Tumladen where the wind was ever strong. Impassable mountains were encircling green Tumladen. A massive rock was laying in the middle of the plain where elves once rejoiced to have it found, and the fair Gondolin was standing like a jewel on the hidden rock. The greatest of all city that was ever built in Middle-earth.

Norliriel, the healer in the party who bore Themodir home to Imladris for the last time, was distraught. Upon entering Manadhlaer's chambers -- Manadhlaer, wife of Themodir, who had married a dying Elf-knight as he lay on the path before the Last Homely House; who had become bride and widow in almost the same breath, as Themodir used the last of his to tell his new wife that he had always loved her -- she almost skidded to a halt.

What are thou fit for, O Culufinnel? Wherefore have I commanded you to watch, wherefore have I endeavored to make you fit. Patience does not wait forever and life does not look back. Now go, swiftly, to the Valley, and show these Noldor what speed looks like!

It was now nearly twelve hours since his brother had spat out these words and the snow had eased a little. Culufinnel was feeling miserable. He was soaked from head to foot and Themodir’s weight was heavy on his shoulders, yet nothing mattered; he did not slacken his steps.

He fumbled with the silver and emerald clasp, cursing quietly as it kept slipping from his fingers and coming undone despite his best efforts. In frustration he shrugged the dark green silk and black velvet striped arming jacket off of his shoulders and sighed; looking at the armour pieces carefully laid on the table before him reminded him of his own weakness. A warrior that can no longer dress himself for battle is not fit to wear such armour.

Well, Diary, do you know that I had written nearly all of one of your big pages, and then I spilled ink on it! The leaves are thick, but not all the blotting-sand I had would remove the stain from what I had written. This seems to me less of a bad omen than merely tiresome.

These were Lord Anglachelm's judgments: that Estarfin should be honored, and not be cast out as some of us feared; he shall be ably employed, and not lose his place and station in the House.

Honoured Lady,

Throughout all time, the light of our people shines in the darkness. But the design of the Enemy is to keep us apart, because he could not keep light out of the world entirely; and when he could not do that, he spared no pains to sunder ties of kinship and set Men against us.

It is said in the Valley that the Enemy is preparing to strengthen his dominion by the continuation of destruction of the lives and lands of the Free Peoples everywhere, and moves forth to open War.

My Lord,

This day a Council meeting was held to hear an account of the actions of Estarfin, formerly Sergeant-at-Arms of the Order of the Hammer, so that we could hear what was done, and why it was done, and give our recommendations to Lord Anglachelm.

((This is a report written to Anglachelm, signed by Veryacano))

My Lord,

The hearing of Estarfin by the Cauns has taken place as you ordered. My impressions from Estarfin's account and the following discussions are: