He was dreaming.

She had red hair, long and flowing unbound. The breeze swept it back, and lightly tangled it in invisible fingers. It took up part of her red gown as well, so that it ballooned out behind her. She laughed. 

The Confessions of Zôrzimril, Daughter of Zimrathôn

Confessions taken by Abrazîr, Inquisitor of the All-seeing in the Upper Ward of Umbar Baharbêl, and recorded by his scribes.

There were thirty left. 

She was sitting at her desk in the side room that was lit by only one lamp, and turned as I was but a few feet away. “You!” she said. There was no fear on her face, only disgust. “Ungrateful creature, after all we did for you.”

The corsair ship rocks from side to side, carried around by the waves all while being pushed ever forward by the strong winds in its sail. The corsairs on it however, all too familiar to the movements of the sea. They had little to no issue walking all over the place as if it was on dry land. “Check on our new catch!” The captain of the ship yells out. They are halfway to Umbar, returning from a successful raid along the southern Gondor coast.

previous chapter

sometime in the fourth age, southern lands of Middle Earth

"No"

"Yes"

"No"

"Yes"

"Pen-channas. You cannot keep it"* Ristor swept back a strand of dark hair with great annoyance, though the hair was not the source of said annoyance, but the elleth crouched on the ground in front of him, with a drakeling perched on her shoulder. Yes. A drakeling.

She had been watching the children of the Caru-Luth playing near the tents. Scruffy, grubby little urchins for the most part, but they were full of laughter and jest. They enjoyed their meager lives, they enjoyed competing against each other in mostly friendly fights. Some had short shaggy ponies, and they raced them round the settlement, calling for adults to ‘beware, for the young warriors were training’. And the adults looked on, smiling as they recalled their own childhoods.