Vanimar

I do not know where to start. At the first glance Daegond might have been strange, crude and even mean to a person who did not know him, but he had more than meets the eye. Profound loyalty to those he protects. The reasons why he was behaving the way he did. A softer side which the Noldorin (or any) warrior tries so hard to hide under their shell of steel.

All I have in my mind are the scenes of meeting him.

Estarfin shook his head, scarcely able to believe the news. The Hound of Vanimar, fallen? It could not be. How had his stout armour failed him? How had his mighty hammer missed the mark? He smiled, trying to convince himself that the Hound was again trying to trick them all, yet knowing in his heart that the terrible news was true. Running his hand through his hair, he poured out a glass of wine, raising it to the air in memory of his friend.

There is little to trouble my life these days. I have moved on to a quieter, more peaceful existence than I have long known. Lelyar and Arnone tend the Halls, while I am mostly in a smaller dwelling on the coast, so that I may look out each day over the sunken lands that were once my home. I remember!

It was once his home too.....

Dear Diary,

I apologize for writing in you when morning has not yet touched my window, but I have had the most shockingly bad dream while taking my rest.

It seemed to me that I was in a dark wood, where the very trees had leaves that scratched me, utterly lost and alone.