Elrond

Entry Twelve: Exile

It has been long, since one parted the pages of this journal. Not since that of the Misty Mountains and that of the banishment of the company from the vale. Much has happened since the day one’s wound would heal and it was time to depart from Imladris. Khalis truly showed friendship, risking his position to spare one’s own banishment. One will be forever grateful to Khalis, till the end of his days amongst these lands.

We reached the Valley in good time. Lord Estarfin was more quiet than usual, perhaps contemplating the making of the sword he had been charged with crafting for our Lord Anglachelm. Close by the chalk path that leads to the Valley, we met a elf lady, a soldierly-type, by the name of Limiriel.

Saelleth had undergone many months of training in the valley of Imladris and observed a number of patrols in the surrounding lands. She had progressed well and although her skill with the sword was still lacking in comparison to the fully trained warriors she had learned enough to defend herself competently. Where Saelleth excelled was in the use of the spoken word.

In recognition of her devotion to Elbereth and for her services to Imladris and Lord Elrond, Saelleth Elanorian is hereby presented with Silivegil - The Blade of White Fire

Silivegil - The Blade of White Fire

Talkale set down his thick stack of papers upon the teak writing desk, thumbing through them absently as he thought about the events of the evening. The names of various abodes of the Enemy flicked briefly before him as he thought of Parnard, that most dislikeable Elf that the Lady Rainith insists upon keeping at her side like an ill-tempered and poorly-trained hound. Yet she had asked him to treat Parnard with more kindness, and what choice did he have but to obey? Talkale scoffed to himself at the idea, for he was alone in the library at this late hour.

The Battle of the Lost Temple

Told by Lord Khalis, captain of the Warband.

Transcribed in the notes of Loremaster Virthalion.

Disbelief, artifice, despair, treachery, exploitation, falsehood, dissemblance, dereliction, plot. What comes next?

Every single thing I've fought against has been conflated in Bree. Bree seems to have failed in every aspect. New Bree is the wild - wild is the old Bree. Bree is the headquarters of organized crime, torture and murder - it is the new Angband. 

      Torrigan stood looking at one of the great fires that gave the Hall of Fire its name. For a week he had been a guest at the Last Homely House, under the protection of Lord Elrond. He was well rested, garbed in the finery of a guest of Imladris; silks and soft linens of red and white. He had eaten and drank his fill every day since he had arrived and was well tended. He was granted everything he needed to be comfortable. Yet he was still unhappy.

It’s a bright blue afternoon and I am sitting idly on a terrace  in Celondím (the view is beautiful). I stopped here so Mal could relax a bit and get some hay.