Act III, Part XVI: Of Adventuring and the Battle under the Trees
The road back to Taur-nu-Fuin from Ered Luin was an adventurous one. In the course of a single year, spanning the majority of 3017 and 3018 of the Third Age, Tinnurion travelled by many unusual roads, through lands less explored, like the cold wastes of Forochel, the desolate land of Angmar, the wilds of the Ettenmoors and down south to the hills of Enedwaith, and beyond. Of his adventures in this time I will not tell much here, for they be too plentiful to recount in this chronicle. But what I can tell, is that he gathered many ingredients for the brewing of his tinctures along the way, and that he sang many songs in the forests of Middle-Earth, singing of the swift passing of the trees:
I yerne yéni lennar lintiënen,
I enwinar alcari ve hisië sintar,
Nordo ar neldo, sánë ar tasar,
Nainala alda, nainiët hlarelmë!
Through those songs he could feel once more the weariness that had set in, and it was both frightening and curious. And therefore, his desire to understand this feeling and gain control over it grew with every passing moon. For he believed that in it lay the secret to escaping the changing of the world under the sun and the ability to walk again in perpetual night, unseen and undisturbed like in times of old. Through sheer effort of the mind he tried to see what could not be seen, hoping to come to some understanding. But what he did not know is that, by this practice, he only hastened his decline. With every such exercise did his spirit come closer to consuming his body, and all the while he was utterly unaware.
But his time had not come yet. There were adventures and wanderings left in his lifetime, and the most pressing would be the defence of his forest home. As deep in Mirkwood, on the 15th of March, the Enemy had issued forth a great host from Dol Guldur to destroy Lothlórien in the west and Thranduil’s halls in the north. The orcs laid waste to many parts of the forest as they set upon the Elves in great number. Tinnurion saw the smoke from afar and, using the black whistle, he called for the lone horse to bare him swiftly to Mirkwood. The Silvan Elves had not reckoned Tinnurion would leave his secret abode to join them in their fight; so great was their surprise when the black elf did enter the fray, bearing his black sword Níniolêg in hand, that they called out his name.
'Tinnurion! Tinnurion!'
Tinnurion had not meant to partake in the wars of his kin, as he had vowed not to do since the days of the First Battle of Beleriand, but there was no fleeing from it this time. During the battle he fought as best as he could alongside the Silvan Elves. But in the gloom of the forest, visited upon by fire and death, he nigh succumbed to the darkness. Khamûl, the Nazgûl who led the attack, brought him to despair. And sure enough, he would have fallen to the Nazgûl’s enchantments if the battle had not turned in their favour when it did. The Elves won the battle, pushing the orcs back. In the next days some more battles ensued under the trees, but on the 25th of March word reached their ears of the fall of Sauron, and all rejoiced at the hearing of it. With renewed vigour the Elves utterly defeated the orcs that remained in the north, while down south the forces of Celeborn and Galadriel marched upon Dol Guldur itself, destroying it forever.
But for Tinnurion there was no joy or relief, nor did he reckon it a new day for Elves as Thranduil had it. He only cared deeply to return now to his house and stay there undisturbed, brewing his tinctures, writing his books and watching the stars from his tower.
