On this Island Arvaryar lay for some time, wounded from his battle against the Orcish host. And without his weapon (an ancient hammer) nor his two rings. The Dwarf (Allrin) took these, not for himself, nay, nay, dwarves aren't grave robbers or the like. He took those to give to Arvaryar's relatives and close friends ( a costum among the dwarves).
The only thing that remained on Arvaryar (besides his torn cloth) were a silver eight spiked broach, known as the star of Feanor, ancient symbol of the Noldor that served the seven sons of the High King.
And he thought...He thought... His wounds were not light, so after a time, his thoughts were becoming dreams ,or memories, of The Elder Days. He first remembered his sister, the beautifully Lady Nyellolaurë, how he never left her, and swore to protect her... And then he remembered the time when he left her forever, at the time of the second Kinslaying. When the Host of the Sons marched to Doriath, to Menegroth to recaim what was theirs by birthright.
He remembered the Battle, Eldar against Eldar, the Folks of Finwe against the Folks of Elwe. He even remembered his Passion, his fiery desire for vengeance. Often the ancient days of Evil came to trouble his mind. Yet this time it was different, for this time, there seemed to be a gentle and familiar voice calling him, beging him to stop, Though the voice was there it changed nothing to the outcome, what was in the past stayed in the past. Nothing can be changed. But the voice also spoke of forgiveness, something that he tried to avoid, during all those centuries of solitude.
His dream (or memories) came to stop, as a voice awoke him.
This voice was coming from an Elven Maiden, dark haired and grey eyed, all clad in chain mail, that stood beside him. Was it her voice that he heard during his dream?
"My...My Lady, you have found me..."
