Thread: Dagor Dagorath

Elvon Gulf of Lune For many, the perpetual darkness was unnerving. The repetition of day and night that governed the routines and habits of countless individuals was now broken by the return of an entity none of them understood. How could they believe such tales and legends that supposedly occurred some six or seven millennia before their time? Elvon did not judge them for their worry, their anxieties, or their fear and mistrust. It was not hard to empathize with their lack of understanding for he himself did not truly know the scope of the catastrophe now looming over Middle-earth. But indecisiveness was not his forte. He had been assigned a task, to recover the fragments of the shattered Sun, the first victim in the onslaught of the ancient Enemy. And now he set every fibre of his being to seeing it through. It had been millennia indeed since he was last on these shores. He was not bothered by the dark, for he could remember a time when there had been no Sun or Moon, but starlight or the mingling of the light of Two Trees which was only remembered in song. Now an equal devestation had taken place and whoever among the mortals and remaining elves could be found to confront the Darkness, he now had to seek out. Yet there was little cause for doubt, as Elvon already found one willing companion not prone to paralyzing fear. She had joined him, the first of their company to seek out some restoration to the natural balance of things. Or perhaps she alone did not see his arguments about triumphing over the Darkness as the ravings of a lunatic. With the young wood-elf, they sat on a patch of grass beneath the twilight sky. It might have been high morning had the catastrophe not occurred but who could tell now. It was cold regardless and would be from now on. He had dressed accordingly. Against his flesh kissed the hard steel of a coat of chainmail, down to his knees. Above was a long robe, tight fitting and warm, with breeches tucked into his boots. A grey travel cloak and hood hung about his shoulder. He was armed only with a sword, ancient, of elven-make so that it would glow blue whenever orcs were near. While Nair lay and mused over the stars, Elvon poured over a map he had been given of the lands. He had one report to go on already, the sighting of a falling sky far to the north of Eriador. His finger traced along the parchment where the supposedly object had crashed from its fall. The Mountains of Angmar. He knew nothing of that land or its histories yet he felt a chill nevertheless at the name. His elven ears barely heard the approaching footsteps before any person came into view. A skilled huntsman or tracker, no doubt. Yet he could tell this was no ambush or attack as the footsteps did not seem confrontational. He was behind a tree and thus out of sight when the greeting was called out but he sprang up to his feet, stepping out from behind the large oak tree with the map in hand. His eyes came upon a woman, one of the human race. Hail traveler. Elvon answered in a polite tone, though he had an accent to his speech that would show he was not from these lands or anywhere close by. We might ask you the same for I heard no human lives near to the Lune. But perhaps your coming is fated. You are a traveler, yes? You know these lands well? Im afraid I do not. These places, Shire, Breeland, Arnor, Rhudar , are but names on a map to me and Ive never been. He had just announced too he had intention to travel north into the abode of evil men and orc infested hills. Ive heard of a falling star to the north of us. I and my companion seek it. He further explained, gesturing to Nair. I am called Elvon. He introduced himself and allowed Nair and the stranger to do the same if they wished. If you can render aid to us, whether with news, knowledge, or guidance, at least to the Shire and Breeland beyond, I would be most grateful. Elvon requested, stepping forward a bit to size up the human female more closely. She looked formidable but his judgement of humans was old and outdated.