Vinyalonde

As I wait, the sun slips slowly down behind the trees, so that the leaves blush with rosy light. I light the lamps myself, kindling each small flame one by one. In the gathering darkness, the stone maiden stares out into the distance she cannot see, one hand always reaching out, expression lost in shadow. I sit cross-legged on the soft grass, listening to the sound of the waterfall just a few feet away. It doesn't completely mask the approaching footsteps, but I do not turn until I feel the hand drop lightly to my shoulder.

I saw Rainith and Lord Belegos wander off together, she looking betwixt us, and m

“Why is Rainith not with us?" Estarfin asked Danel again.

Did this blockhead not understand anything? wondered Parnard. He spread his embroidery out before him and lifted up his wineskin. “Ai!” he gasped.

“What is it?” said Danel.

My Lord,

It surprised many in the household when our lord chose me as his emissary, rather than some powerful warrior or other person prone to quarrels and fighting, and striving about things to no profit, which is very unbecoming to a person of dignity and authority. When, instead of a help, a ruler has a glowering, unmannerly, warlike counselor who will not sit himself down first before counting the cost, and who speaks without mildness, or of things which he knows nothing, then his mind fills with worry.

The moon was setting behind the hollies and the figure of Belegos could be seen stalking the shadows underneath the trees. He was a clever tracker, Parnard admitted, but he would prove his true worth when they reached the black mires and the ravines of the southern Greenwood. As Parnard continued gazing at him, he began to wonder if the scout really was as old as he had been told.

Rainith and Belegos are mighty frank and familiar towards each other; they seem as old friends reunited. I sit by the fire, a little apart from the company, waiting for this accursed haunch to finish cooking. The spit is set too high over the flames, but these burn so hot that to roast the meat any closer will char it.

It began with barely a whisper – a trail of smoke unfurling across the sky, rising from outside the walls of the city, where they now stood.

Alassien broke off her conversation with Belfaer to point, wondering aloud, “What's that?” Maltariel leaned across Orien to see, looking in confusion at the smoke, a cold finger of dread uncoiling inside her.

Continued from Blood in Eregion

Surely, here is a picture worth painting,  Parnard thought. There stood Lord Anglachelm, the noble lord of his household, crowded close around by a group of admiring elves. All were gazing in wonderment at the marvelous pendant crafted for him by Elvealin.