Themodir

The eagle batted its golden eye and looked accusingly at him, as if it was Parnard's fault that it was so cold, and he was so far from the Valley, and so tired from roaming all night searching for him.

His left hand wavered in the air in front of the sharp beak as his right hand crept forward to remove the small scroll tied to its leg.

"Confounded bird!" he cried out, as the eagle nipped at him again and again, and struck him full in the face with its wing.

The wind was particularly strong that morning, even for the plains of green Tumladen where the wind was ever strong. Impassable mountains were encircling green Tumladen. A massive rock was laying in the middle of the plain where elves once rejoiced to have it found, and the fair Gondolin was standing like a jewel on the hidden rock. The greatest of all city that was ever built in Middle-earth.

What are thou fit for, O Culufinnel? Wherefore have I commanded you to watch, wherefore have I endeavored to make you fit. Patience does not wait forever and life does not look back. Now go, swiftly, to the Valley, and show these Noldor what speed looks like!

It was now nearly twelve hours since his brother had spat out these words and the snow had eased a little. Culufinnel was feeling miserable. He was soaked from head to foot and Themodir’s weight was heavy on his shoulders, yet nothing mattered; he did not slacken his steps.

Norliriel sang this to Themodir as he was borne from the mountains, grievously wounded by a poisoned goblin blade.

She waits for you, whom you cherish,
Your beloved, fair as the sea-foam,
Crowned with silver, wreathed in light.

No prisoners! No mercy!

Dolthafaer crouched over the corpse of a goblin lying face-down in the snow.  Two arrows protruded from its back – one was broken, perhaps tread upon by its own brethren as they fled the mighty company of Vanimar and Warband, but the other was intact.  He yanked the unbroken arrow free from the corpse and bit back a wince as he felt an answering stab of pain in his shoulder.