Storm

He padded soft along the beach. A rare chance to be alone. The surf sighed its unending music. It was a summer evening. Ryheric was eighteen, and had been sent out on what ought to be an easy night patrol. 

There was a dark haired girl on the beach, visible thanks to the bright moonlight silvering the waves and wet sand alike. She was probably the same age as him. She hauled in a lobster net. The moon was high above, idyllic. 

Mr Dimheim,

Leaning back against the trunk of red leafed tree in the garden of the little stone house he'd bought, Mornenion took a sip from his glass of wine. It was a beautiful night, to him. The sky was dark with brewing storm clouds, meaning the moon and the stars were hidden. It was almost like when he was young, in Dorwinion, where the light of the two trees did not reach. That is why he and his people are called the Avari, the Dark Elves, because they never saw the light of the two trees in their full power.

The dark clouds reached Trestlebridge fast, coming from the North and within a few moments they covered the sky and an angry rain started pouring down. It’s drops carried South by the wind where the woodcutters of Bree worked in North Chetwood, along with the growing clouds.

-Let’s go back, it’s going to rain. Said one of the men.

Not long after the boat has set sails towards the sea the storm has reached it. The crew put up the fight against the blizzard but soon, the storm struck harder forcing the boat to miss its right course. But even that was not enough to save it. Soon, the ship of the Lossoth has hit one of the icebergs on the Bay and started to sink. The Forngarmo knew that swimming to the shore will be the worst possible way. She decided to stay aboard and write one last message. She wrote a message but didn't adress it to anyone special.