Éiadric felt the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves as he rode full speed over the grassy plains of the Westfold. It was dawn and the mist lay like a grey carpet over the rolling hills. He was flanked by the 12 riders of his scout unit at the end of a long pursuit to get to the fleeing orcs before they reached the shallow river, now half a mile or so ahead of them.

By fate or by chance, I have found and spoken with the Man named V.
The Wardens are eager, yet lacking in numbers to hold the invaders back by themselves. If we can find enough allies to lance an assault, we may have a chance to aid them before it is too late. The Wardens have excellent knowledge of the area and V. would offer this knowledge along with his blade.

Yet - we are too few. I cannot in my heart bring myself to ask a friend to join me to their death. Yet if we do not act we risk the death of many more...

My heart is torn. Have you any counsel to ease my mind?

Imladris, 35th day of Ethuil

I have only just arrived in Imladris on my errand - and what an unexpected surprise! A face I last saw many years ago appeared before me! It took me some moments to place her face, to ponder her name, and to fix them both in my mind, for it has been long. Yet it is true: Mornariel, the daughter of Ondotano of Nargothrond, is indeed here in Imladris!

I did not expect to be here again. I did not expect to be sitting on this rock in Far Chetwood, alone and hiding, just like I used to. It is like a homecoming in its own way. So familar, so comforting. When I came back from Eregion after the supposed death of Drevorin I had wanted nothing more than to return to the way things were; a simpler time without so much pain and it would seem that I have in a way. My pain is tenfold now, but I am back here again.