Thendryt

After their discovery of the monstrous giant, the party returned to camp.  Yrill offered to track the movements of the creature.

“That we can inform our lords of the problem..and a solution,” she said, already turning back towards the lake.  She was quick and fierce, a creature of action.  

The Captain of the Arrows agreed, provided she was cautious.  “As you will. Do not come to close to it, Yrill.  I will not lose a good scout to a hunk of ice and stone.”  He smiled crookedly.

Parnard sat on a fallen tree, feet dangling, the pointed tips of his boots tracing strange figures in the snow.

"That accursed Man is already causing problems, and we are not even deep into the mountains," he said in Quenya softly to Limiriel .

"What kind of problems?"

Patrolling in the snow didn’t calm him down. When Thendryt returned to the camp the Elves had already made a large fire. He made his way closer but stopped once he realized that they were cooking and drinking tea. This is what you summoned me for? He wasn’t here for this. He turned around and moved towards the back of the camp. It quickly grew colder, but he paid it no mind. Better cold than in the middle of that.

There was a small army of Elves waiting when Thendryt finally arrived in the Vale. Vanimar Elves were rushing here and there, getting supplies, weapons and other things in order. He didn’t know many Elves from Vanimar, but had recognized Parnard, standing somewhat in the middle. Thendryt had been the first Warband member on the scene, but he hadn’t waited long before Virthalion had joined him. Soon after, Faorie, Curundar and Khalis. Elisbeth had taken her time, but made it eventually.

Yesterday, under the respective command of Lords Veryacano, Khalis a

”They’re pushing the Hoarwell.” The tall Elf said, and pointed to the map. “If you were wondering.”
“Any particular reason you’ve summon me, Tordúr?” Thendryt said, folding his arms as he awaited the Captain-General’s answer.
Tordúr gave him an annoyed look as he rose from the map table.
“Yes, Watcher, there is. I saw the spectacle in the plaza, I believe congratulations are in order. The Warband is known throughout the garrison and it’s a pleasure to have one so close by.”

The Ettenmoors. Some call it the Ettendales. It is the land between the Trollshaws and Angmar, along the Misty Mountains. To the north lies Mount Gram, where Angmar’s forces keep swarming. To the west, Eriador and the Lone Lands, infected with Orcs already. To the east, the Misty Mountains spring up like a wall, its snowy peaks looking down on you. You could almost believe the heights were pitying you. And to the south…


“I ask to be named Tiri Daethor* of the Coldfells.”