At last. I turn the key in the heavy lock, enjoy the sound of the tumblers falling dully. Secure, finally. I have her where I wish her to be.

Here in my silent towers, where the walls are so thick even cries of agony or pleading to the uncaring powers are stiffled and muffled. Where the glamour of her voice and her song cannot weave its bewitching thread into the minds of lesser men. There are many years of life left to me, perhaps beyond my own knowledge. When I am done with the work for my lord of the east, then, she is mine.

Lisca’s acceptance into the Leutha Maethor

The warband leader Elisbeth had sent word out from Imladris to all of the Leutha Maethor to gather at the Haven of Orladion at the appointed day and time to see the young Lisca take her vow and be accepted into their ranks.

Sing to the summer, the season of warmth, the sun and the fruit in the fields;
But welcome the autumn, the fall of the leaves, the artist of colour and change.

In red and golden leaves it paints, in cold and starry sky,
In fiery grass and flaming fruits, in misty fingers grey.
The winds it calls from east and west, from north and southern plains,
The clouds it shepherds to its will, bright sun and early rains.

It has been a strange few days.

For the most part I have been alone, with the occasional conversation with Flannery to break up the solitude. I have seen neither hide nor hair of the others from my past, save two.

Never trust Gyth ter pick a warrior. I said we should have gone for the leader o' them chetwood lot. He may be as ugly as chewed boot, but he looks like he could last a few years.

But no - Gyth flutters her eyes and waves her hair about, an' picks this bloody lad, face as fair as a maid an' about as effective. Goes by the jaw-cracking wealas name o' Araenion. Or Onion... feh. I dursen't know, by the time we gets to the Bridge Town, whether he's escortin' us north, or whether we'm looking after -him-.