Thargelion

As we rode, we marveled at the night sky. (It was still early, though at almost mid-winter it was dark very early.) Cold and clear, I could almost hear the great music of the stars, tinkling in the ice cold distance. 

“So Carnifinde, when are you going to do something about the situation?” Hirinde broke the silence.

(After Part one)

I have never been one for a large gathering of acquaintances, preferring a small number of closer friends. For much of my early life this consisted of Rilye, Hirinde and Caro. 

(Four weeks before the Dragon.)

Despite the passing of Ages, I remember it well. 

I remember...

Home, before the Dagor Bragolach, before the fire and the dragon and the armies of orcs. Before retreat, unthinkable until then, before riding to whatever sanctuary could be found in the lands of Ambarussa. Before so very many were lost.

"Tonight is a night for joy and laughter, Estarfin Hestion. I see you stand before me, not far from full grown, yet still so young. Barely thirty summers have passed since I could hold you in one hand." He smiled and nodded to his son, then raised his glass in a toast. "To your studies, and less accidents in the stables." Estarfin nodded, watching his father carefully.
He copied the motion, raising his own glass of orange and water, a rare treat saved for high feasts. He drank the sweet liquid, marvelling at the taste and scent of it.