Eregion

I have not enjoyed my time in Eregion. 

I know, I know. My father (much less my grandfather) would be horrified, I am sure, to learn that I am less than pleased with my exploration of this place. Yet I cannot help it. The land itself is beautiful, but there is something strange about it--something eerie and echoing, at least to my mind, something empty and sad. 

How can I question?  So, here, among the white stones of the ancient watch of Gwingris, enclosed by the bones of the very last fortress in all of Eregion, the last to submit to the black orcs of Sauron - here, my noble commander, sets a special detail... on a case of sausages.  
 

Duarion tugged at the material of his dark, grey and slightly muddy cloak. He felt comfortable with his shadowy appearance, although some might mistake him for a brigand or thief. It was useful for moving unseen, not to mention recalling some of the sable materials of the armies of Gondor, his home.

"Are you ready?" an elf called from the door.

Glancing over at his sleeping wife, he bent over and gave her a gentle kiss. "I'll be back soon, my dear," he whispered.

Five Days Before...

-"Hir Angelnarth!", the elf shouted at him. "We are riding away, come on!"

Angelnarth wiped the drops of sweat on his forehead as he faced the sun, feeling the hot rays on his face. He removed his metallic visor and turned to Tetheril who was riding just behind him without slowing his horse down at all in the meantime. His voice came out loud and winded "To the west lies Echad Mirobel, settlement of the Eldar. We follow the old path to the north until dusk, then we rest in Pembar!