My beloved family,
I write this letter to thee at the end of war. Some weeks passed, I arrived in the lands surrounding Lake Nenuial, witnessing the splendour of the once great city of Annúminas, where the Kings of Arnor made their dwelling. As until today, remnants of the Enemy, largely those in the service of Angmar have been in control of the city. I am unsure as fully as to why, and even the Dúnedain Wardens of the nearby fortress of Tinnudir cannot provide a full explanation. Some believe they were searching for an old Númenorean relic; others believe that it was to maintain a foothold within old Arnorian lands. An outpost, if ever there was one. Following the reclamation, I have taken some time to look around the city, and have even returned a crown to a long dead king. The Angmarim have done much damage to the city, perhaps more than the effects of time and the weather. Many more graves have been ransacked and vaults pillaged of their treasures. I feel that in time, once the King’s Host arrive in these lands, that Annúminas will see bright days once again.
As of now, myself and my companions of the Order of the Hand of Númenor, and their allies, have reclaimed the city in the name of King Elessar. Our banners fly high over the worn stone walls of the city, a victory to rival that of the Battle of the Morannon. I will not say it was an easy victory. The journey to reach such has been thwart with peril and danger. An ally was put on trial for defending their honour; and a close friend of Belenir was lost on the field of war. I was captured by the Enemy: however, you will be pleased to know they left no lasting marks on me, on my body or mind. Those were dark days, where some of my companions have fallen and others have lost hope.
However, in those days, there was light in the darkness. A sailor of Pelargir, named Achelarion, a troubled young man perhaps of a similar age to myself, has been made known to be Lord Belenir’s illegitimate son from a lover long lost. It did not strike me then, as the first impressions were that he was an arrogant individual, however now I see he does bear a strong resemblance to his father. Especially with the loss of his trueborn son during the war. The Lord Commander now has hope that his name shall live on, with some training and tutorage.
With the King’s influence now having a foothold within the North, I feel it is now our duty to nurture it whilst it is in this fragile state. I have thought hard about how this task has dramatically changed my purpose within these lands. I arrived just as a scholar seeking answers; and now I find myself becoming a harbinger of the King’s Justice. Regardless, this is a mantle I must step up to, for maybe the two fates are intertwined? We shall see in the days ahead.
As for now, well, the Order prepares to travel North. Toragol, the Chief of the Heir of Angmar's army from Carn Dûm, fled during the fighting. It is the Order’s charge to find him and bring him to justice. He is believed to, instead of returning to Angmar, travelled further north to the land of Forochel. I know little of this place, other than it is a land of constant winter, where the days are short and the snow lasts all year, and are inhabited by a people known as the Lossoth. It is a land where the locals are generally sceptical of outsiders, but it is also where the Last King of Arthedain fled to when his lands fell to Angmar. It is with my hope that I will be able to follow his steps and determine his fate.
Please know that, as I write this, I am well. With everything that hath happened, I am confident that my spirit remains high for the most part. Whilst Faervelwen follows Prince Faramir into the Morgul Vale, I follow the path North, doing what must be done to ensure a long-lasting peace within Middle-Earth.
Until I write to you again.
No aer i eneth Helcharon. Padrad mi i calad.
Thandanar, on the twentieth day of Gwaeron in the 3020th year of the Third Age
