Lately I am feeling a terrible urge to return to the full noble court manners, and I admit I am tired of acting so... normal. I will do my best to slip back to the ‘lordly ways’ I was used to just about three years ago. Let this entry be a chance for some practice. I will also try to use the lettering I was taught those many years ago in Lórien. I should still remember most of it.
It is the thirty-first of August, 3018, eleven in the evening. I am sitting at an old wooden table in the ‘cat apartment’ as some people prefer to call it. My golden mask is laid up on the shelf, spear leaning on the wall beside me and my swords laid next to the old but apparently comfortable bed. The bed is occupied by a young purple dressed woman. This woman was lying on a stone altar at the Marshwater Fort no more than two hours ago, but I have carried her here in order to give her safety, comfort and warmth. She has her cheek slightly burned and her ribs are broken – certainly not something I envy her for. But I do envy her ability to resist so much and remain focused, more so because of her occupation. Her name is Cae and she appears to have worked for the Heirs, at least before they laid her on the altar to rot. Or perhaps even worse, perform another one of the silly Angmarim rituals to ‘please’ Morgoth.
Today’s evening began in a rather strange way. The Heirs were supposed to hold a meeting at their mansion, but since Lord Dracius has not reported to me, I remained steady. Luckily I was approached by Ithilvalan and I was enormously pleased to see her lust for vengeance against them. She was there with her friend – Damondir – whom I thought to be a very old man, if not one with an approaching death. But Ithilvalan proved me wrong when she explained to me he was cursed by Nalokha. Lanceia was sad when I told her that from experience, the one who cursed him must die in order for the curse to be lifted. I was surprised when later at the altar Damondir lifted the curse through simply fighting his own mind. I feel much better now when I see Nalokha’s curses work in a different way than those I have read about in the old myths.
Myself, Ithilvalan and old Damondir were approached by Morgang, the dark caster, who was brave enough to stand against us three, putting himself in an impossibly hopeless situation. Not that Damondir would count as one with how he was. Then came another woman, dressed in a crimson robe, who shouted at Morgang to come to the Marshwater Fort immediately. In my opinion that was a risky move, for she practically set our next destination after we deal with that old madman. He retreated and we decided to check on this fort. It was there where we found Cae lying on the altar without a move, her body completely prostrate and broken. I have provided whatever aid I could before Morgang came by, seemingly seeking Cae. Ithilvalan and Damondir held him back as I prolonged Cae’s life, which seemed to be at its brink. In the middle of my work, Ithilvalan and Damondir cried out for help and after I put my mask and gauntlets on again and turned around in haste, they were crawling on the ground in fear, while Morgang stood no more than five metres away from me and used the spell that I know so well, that makes his opponent see him way larger and fearsome than he is. I have met this spell several times already, so I was prepared and dodged the ‘huge monster’s punch’ before drowning it under my whirlwind. Luckily the sun was rising at that point and the defeated Morgang stumbled away. I could finally load Cae onto Malheru and gallop back to Bree, right into the ‘cat apartment’. There I tied up her chest with Damondir’s linen cloak and she at last seemed to be all right.
I am very unsure about this Damondir. He hates Cae for trying to poison him earlier and if I did not step in, he would have her head hung up his wall by now. It is partly understandable, for she did work for Nalokha; but just like with Falldraf, anybody can be turned as long as his or her will thinks for itself, not being tricked by a foul witch.
