Seregrian

           As Seregrían becomes more accustomed to the company of the Dwarves of Durin’s Folk, and enamored of their hoarded lore and knowledge, the Dwarves in turn share a growing respect for the enigmatic Elf-scholar who wields arcane weapons at their side in battle. Hall by hall, deep by deep, the Iron Garrison plunges into the dark of the mansions of Durin, with the Blood-queen in the vanguard blazing their trail.

           Each passage leads to – one more passage…

The Mines of Moria reveal their secrets slowly, and not without a sore trial, so Seregrían learns…

           News has reached Rivendell of the exploits of a new colony of Dwarves, styling themselves the Iron Garrison, seeking to reoccupy the Mines of Moria. Following hard on the success of her embassy to Durin’s Folk in the Blue Mountains, Seregrían is now tasked to approach the Dwarf leaders and join their company, and provide what assistance she can.

            All roads now lead to Hytbold as many forces converge upon the walled town of the Eorlingas for a meeting of doom.  The Riders Four have ridden far to warn the people of the Eastemnet of the approaching menace from both east and west, the Black Hand and the White, and now ride hard for the town to bring the tidings they have gathered.  At the same time, the Thanes and Reeves

            Farohir, the half-Elven twin brother to Eldariel, now stands just outside the great gates of Moria at the opening expanse into Dimrill Dale.  This is the first time in his life that he has ever beheld this land, though he has heard tell of it from many voices:  the forbidding white peaks of the Misty Mountains soaring above him to unguessed heights; the crumbling but majestic

            The Riders Four make ready to depart Cliving just before dawn the next morning, bound for Hytbold to the south.  Seregrían stands at the stables to bid them farewell, assuring each of her friends she would find them there within a day.

“You are far too beautiful to love me.”

Even if things go well at first, there are always dips and rocks on the path. My words were sharp and covered in thorns, but as were his.

I honestly can not recall the last moment I was so furious! 

My anger raged and burned as Amathlan and I spoke. It has been ages since such fury rose. Though I am still trying to quell my anger inside, I also feel ashamed.

I suppose it was my fault in the first place, writing to Cardanith behind his back as I did. I should have spoken with Amathlan first. But what can one do, if they are worried?