North

Written as part of the unfolding plot of Northern Charter

PLEASE NOTE: An image created by AI is appended to this story which some may find suggestive of violence. It does not show 'intense violence or gore' or a bloody scene or the likes, and is therefore, in my view, entirely PG-13 and in keeping with the site rules. However, it is only right and proper to forewarn accordingly.

The message was from Naraal, he knew that by the style of writing, the tone, and the symbol on the top left hand side. Sailing orders for the Shakilgimil, and with Balkumagan still in Gondor apparently, that meant he was acting Captain. 

Author’s Note: This piece was shaped with a little help from AI. It provided assistance on things like the structuring, some names, shortening some verbose language/ideas as I'd written, and gave me the odd turn of phrase here and there.

As he reaches the top of the hill, Dinenor glances down to the dell in front of him, smiling happily. ‚Arnor. For far too long have I been gone. But now I am back, beloved home.‘ The ranger looks up to the sky where the sun stands low far in the west; darkness is falling, tarnishing the silhouette of Emyn Uial in the distant south. He puts his gear and weapons down and glances around.

Tukka grinned. His reddish face turned towards the two elves, as he put the two long objects down.

"What is he going to do?" frowned Felyanáro, his hand still resting upon the hilt of his noldorin longsword.