Maethelyn

Patrolling in the snow didn’t calm him down. When Thendryt returned to the camp the Elves had already made a large fire. He made his way closer but stopped once he realized that they were cooking and drinking tea. This is what you summoned me for? He wasn’t here for this. He turned around and moved towards the back of the camp. It quickly grew colder, but he paid it no mind. Better cold than in the middle of that.

There was a small army of Elves waiting when Thendryt finally arrived in the Vale. Vanimar Elves were rushing here and there, getting supplies, weapons and other things in order. He didn’t know many Elves from Vanimar, but had recognized Parnard, standing somewhat in the middle. Thendryt had been the first Warband member on the scene, but he hadn’t waited long before Virthalion had joined him. Soon after, Faorie, Curundar and Khalis. Elisbeth had taken her time, but made it eventually.

”They’re pushing the Hoarwell.” The tall Elf said, and pointed to the map. “If you were wondering.”
“Any particular reason you’ve summon me, Tordúr?” Thendryt said, folding his arms as he awaited the Captain-General’s answer.
Tordúr gave him an annoyed look as he rose from the map table.
“Yes, Watcher, there is. I saw the spectacle in the plaza, I believe congratulations are in order. The Warband is known throughout the garrison and it’s a pleasure to have one so close by.”

The Ettenmoors. Some call it the Ettendales. It is the land between the Trollshaws and Angmar, along the Misty Mountains. To the north lies Mount Gram, where Angmar’s forces keep swarming. To the west, Eriador and the Lone Lands, infected with Orcs already. To the east, the Misty Mountains spring up like a wall, its snowy peaks looking down on you. You could almost believe the heights were pitying you. And to the south…


“I ask to be named Tiri Daethor* of the Coldfells.”

Thendryt wiped the blood off his face. He stood and gazed for a moment, in the middle of the battlefield. They were outnumbered, but not outmatched. Not at all.
Khalis was in the middle of close combat a distance away from him. So was Lilleduil, an equal distance in the other direction.

What were they doing here? What was he doing here? He didn’t belong to the south, he belonged to the north. Towards Angmar. Thendryt didn’t understand. The real threat was to the north, not here in Dunland.
“Problem, Thendryt?” Khalis asked. They had been following the river southwards for days, yet there had been no sign of activity.
“No.” Thendryt replied. “That’s the issue. There’s no problem.”
“What do you mean?” Khalis asked.

“As you requested, Elisbeth.” Khalis said as he dismounted. The ride to Echad Dagoras had gone smoothly, even for Thendryt. Then again, his wounds were healing nicely and they weren’t severe. Bovad had appreciated the ride, he could tell. Poor horse had been in a stable for far too long.
“And how did you come to this place?” Elisbeth asked.
“On horses, Elisbeth.” Khalis replied. Thendryt tried, very hard, not to laugh out loud at that remark. Elisbeth did not look amused.

”Are you awake yet?”
He was, but he did not feel like getting out of the bedroll. Khalis looked down on him, seemingly suspicious.
“Perhaps I have to speak louder…” Khalis leaned in. “ARE YOU AWAKE YET?”
Thendryt frowned as he opened one eye.
“I see that you are, good.” Khalis said and stood back up. Caleniel’s head popped up behind the Captain. Thendryt saw her and made a poor effort to wave.