Vinyalonde

At the Hithaeglir, Annúngil paid Thendryt little heed, too absorbed in his duties to mind his presence. However, it was more of a presence of absence. The man came and gone as he saw fit and his superiors commanded. When he was at the encampment, Thendryt kept to himself, as far as he could from the Eldar.

Why all this to-do? he asked Dolthafaer.

In the Hall of Fire elves gathered, summoned by their Lord Anglachelm.

It was not a game, Raolor told him.

Folly, that is what it is.

Parnard looked up from his papers and stared out the window, half-expecting to see the fierce Noldo tripping on a loose stone, a strip of cloth around his eyes, his hands groping as he sought his way through the Valley paths as he fulfilled his latest "challenge."

"I shall brush him as if the Dagor Dagorath itself would be coming! Ha ha!"

"Ha ha!" Parnard joined in. "Raolor was only jesting. As I thought," he said, glancing over his shoulder. Norliriel was hurt and being tended to a short distance away underneath an oak tree. Excusing himself to Ráolor and the rest, he wandered over to see how she fared. 

"Had the scholars at Thargelion been tardy, they would have soon found themselves in one of the northern forts," Danel whispered to him.

Parnard nodded, unable to reply, because the small group of elves was staring at him. The coolness of the morning air was faded; there was no time to spare. 

After examining the state of the affairs as narrowly as he could, Lord Anglachelm had the mortification to find that the household stock of foodstuffs was low, much lower than expected, and asked his Ambassador to replenish the larder.  Bar-en-Vanimar did not run the hazard of starving, but his news had so distressed Parnard that he awakened twenty times in the night in disorder.

Delossad.