Lilleduil

Thendryt was sitting on a stool in Rivendell’s stables, tool in hand. The evening air was chilly, but refreshing.
Bovad complained as Thendryt grabbed his hoof.
“Stop complaining.”
Bovad let out a final grumpy snort before giving in, and Thendryt started cleaning it.
“Thendryt.”
Lowering the tool, Thendryt looked up to find Nelnardis standing next to him, bottle in hand.
“Nel, long time.”
“Yes, it has been.”
Thendryt turned his attention back to the hoof.

Adanmiel rode leisurely back into the Vale as the sun began to set along the horizon.

"Llamreth, thank you for accompanying me, friend," she whispered as she dismounted.  Her steed trotted off to a grassy clearing nearby and began to graze.  Her strength had begun to improve after returning from the long journey they had taken together to Edhellond.  Adanmiel was glad, the journey had been hard on Llamreth.  She removed Llamreth's bridle and headed home.

Nelnardis took a long mouthful from the bottle of wine. She was sitting on the grass behind her house in Imladris. Not bothering to replace the cork, she set down the green bottle, focusing her attention on the journal on her lap.

Traitors! Defilers!

A storm raged in his mind. He felt his blood boiling, he heard the voices from the past, their chattering, their screaming and shouting rising again, until they reached the gates of his Fëa. And all the time, he saw him in front of the eyes of his mind:

Dolthafaer had – foolishly, he now realized – believed that his troubles with Thendryt had come to an end.  Months ago, the Man had departed from the Valley and taken up his post in the Coldfells, where his madness had been allowed to run unchecked so long as it was against the servants of the enemy.  Out of sight.  Out of mind.  The thought that he might even find his end in those cold pines had been a comforting one.

At the Hithaeglir, Annúngil paid Thendryt little heed, too absorbed in his duties to mind his presence. However, it was more of a presence of absence. The man came and gone as he saw fit and his superiors commanded. When he was at the encampment, Thendryt kept to himself, as far as he could from the Eldar.

Why all this to-do? he asked Dolthafaer.

“What do you mean they’re not in the Vale?!” Thendryt’s voice was high, and most likely leaking out of Lord Elrond’s library.
“I think you understand me quite clearly, Thendryt son of Mors.” Elrond said with authority in his voice, yet he came across as calm and somehow caring.
“Well where have they gone?!” Thendryt roared. “And you, you must be able to explain something!”

The soothing sound of the Bruinen filled the evening air as Thendryt and Lilleduil continued to make their way back to Imladris. They slowed down as they reached the river.
Bovad eagerly reached down to drink, as did Braigsul. Thendryt’s face was facing the opposite way though, he kept his eyes on the looming mountains in front of them. He was uneasy, not knowing what awaited him when they’d return to the Vale.
“Shall we camp for the night, Thendryt?” Lilleduil asked.
Thendryt looked up towards the sky, it was getting dark.