Yrill

No prisoners! No mercy!

Remain within the keep, he had told them.  Rest.

A simple order. 

Clear as crystal. 

A storm had been brewing – always perilous, this far East in the Hithaeglir – and up until that point, his scouts had been working tirelessly, alternating between watch and patrol.  There had been no need for extra eyes in a blizzard.  He had wanted them to take the opportunity to rest, regain their strength.

Yrill had disobeyed him. 

Tancamir had disobeyed him. 

“Annunghil, Ráolor, come with me!”

We arrived at Hrimbarg, northernmost settlement of the Mountains, near the Northern High Pass. There were a few Naugrim there, very surprised at seeing such a large group of Elves, some rather bedraggled and not looking much like soldiers, as one said to me.

The warhammer on his back moved.

It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible but restless, terribly restless.

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.

Dolthafaer stood still and straight at his post, keen eyes moving restlessly over the view before him – snow, for the most part, broken only by the pathetic silhouettes of tall spindly trees and ancient hunks of rock.  The camp was silent below him, save for a few moving carefully amongst the sleeping company. 

It was a quiet watch. 

Peaceful.