I met my kinsmen, Turchiron, at the Haven of Orladion in Imladris in the eve. We spoke little, but I learned much about our company, five or six men and one or two Elves will be joining us, and that they will appear when the need is dire. We departed Imladris and started to journey into the mountainous cliffs of High Moor, it was there that we started to stray off the road after we crossed the Ford of Bruinen. The camp which our company was staying was a distance away from Imladris, so, we sought to get there quicker underneath the twilight cloak of night. Limroval and my flock were flying overheard, not daring to bring attention to us or themselves, they flew high in the sky, all while in the eyesight of us two. The High Moor reminds me of what my father and grandfather would say about the mountainous cliffs of Forostar, the most northern region in Númenor. I have never seen Númenor myself, as I would prove to be too young, but stories throughout the years have been passed down from generation to generation so that we may never forget the splendour of Númenor. “Our flock of ravens nested upon those very cliffs, cawing in harmonious sync. Their nests would be of the greatest that a newborn raven could dwell in, but our flock dwindled as the treachery began.” This would be but a short description of them. We spoke little upon our way to the company’s camp, as I found it, our camp was in the ruin of Delossad. The ruin was once a beautiful settlement of our own make, but now it’s beauty has now been dimmed. Faded, but nature has retook its beauty and molded it into something greater, trees and grass, perfect for shade and a circular opening into the night sky to watch for skys is always a boon to a camp. I bid my flock to stay at Delossad, near its opening, for I deemed it a safe place until I return. I spoke with Limroval ere I was drifting into a dreamless sleep.
I later left our camp, heading towards the High Moor, I wished to patrol and hunt, and hunt I did. I killed one boar, enough for me, for the time. I skinned it, taking its hide and its meat. My plan was to dry the meat, making it a suitable trail food. It was not long that I had met Aecthel, and soon Menegil and the Lady Elemere, whose distaste of me has been revealed at last, claiming I had abandoned her at the ford in search of our other companions, and of my boasting, which to my knowledge did not occur. I fear that she simply does not like me, which, is fine with me. This is the way of men, we often make the Eldar uncomfortable with our thirst for battle, or our boasting of battle. I can not change it, nor do I wish to. The Eldar are a strange, interesting folk, of course, we Dúnedain know their lore more than any other race. Menegil, a warrior and scholar of Lothlórien, had told me another tale of the Eldar Days. A short canto of the Lay of Leithian, and it went by this:
A king there was in days of old:
ere Men yet walked upon the mould
his power was reared in caverns' shade,
his hand was over glen and glade.
Of leaves his crown, his mantle green, his silver lances long and keen;
the starlight in his shield was caught,
ere moon was made or sun was wrought.
I am glad to have met such a well-learned edhel, for I much delight in his company, I only hope that we will meet again and share tales of both our races
