Vinyalonde

      The spring sunshine beams softly down on parched earth. Eddies of dust, whirled into motion by the light breeze, dance and scatter before my eyes. I take a slow, unsteady breath in. The movement sends fire roaring across my chest. I did not even see the spring come, and now, I will not see it bloom in these woods I have loved so well. The orc takes two measured paces towards me, patient. I can hear him move, see the clouds of dust sent running at his heavy footsteps. He is savouring our fall. I cannot look behind me, cannot face my failure.

We have gone too far. For a moment the struggle seems to hang in the balance – we press forwards, they hurl themselves at us in unending, terrible rage. Then, as inevitably slow as the shifting of scales, the fight turns against us. We have been forced away from the company to our right – as we band tighter together, I realise that I cannot see them at all – the only sign that they fight on are their shouts, carrying in the clear air. There are a company of archers behind us, but I cannot see them, cannot hear them.

Several weeks later, I was interrupted in my duties for the Lieutenant Handelen and notified that Rodelleth wished to speak with me. I knew not to dally or put the guard off, so I set out immediately for the commander’s large tent. There Rodelleth did tell me that she had written notice to the Captain of the King’s Guard informing them of Culufinnel leaving her ranks and the circumstances of his departure.

I have been taken to a dark cell in the uppermost parts of the central keep of Nothgar. It is very tedious to hear voices speaking far below and be unable to converse with anyone. I suspect that I am the only person shut in here, but it is impossible to know as the guards refuse to talk. My bedding consists of two blankets and a straw mattress, and the ventilation is exceedingly defective, and the air damp.

       Smoke was beginning to drift up through the streets, spreading from the fires on the plain. From where she was on the upper levels, Maltariel could see the glows from vineyards and planted fields burning – plots that had flourished in the sheltered, hidden plain for generations, nurtured and passed on as labours of love, now little more than ashes.

I have not written in my journal for some time, for it happened that a force of Malledhrim encircled my camp and sprung out from all sides, and they bound my wrists and feet together, and seizing me, set me on the back of Morlanthir. And in this most ignominious position I was taken back to Thangúlhad and brought before Commander Rodelleth in a wretched condition, with leaves and sticks knotted in my hair, and wearing my old filthy shirt.

As told to Sogadan one besotted night in the Hall of Fire:

The Lady Danel thanked me for my help before she departed to speak with the Lords Bele

I dearly miss Swan-Hoof, and I racked my brains to find a way to smuggle her out of Thangúlhad Fortress, but came to the bitter conclusion that it is sheer folly to return there.

Parnard wearily headed straight to the barracks without stopping at the mess-hall to eat. Although he was hungry, for not a morsel of food had gone in his stomach all day, he was too tired to eat. Lately he was always tired, irritable, and anxious. A rest day had been denied to him again.