A new morning was just about to flourish above the moors with a faint reddish line making the horizon blush. The beauty of Imladris, with slopes and vales covered in dense vegetation and tight cliffs here had a different nuance even though the two were similar on many ways. The colors were here washed in the strong light of the sun rising on a cloudless sky and everything was of a less saturated color: old marble details of the last elven keep, the orange of the autumn leaves, the yellowish green of the short moors grass. With no cliffs hiding the bold keep atop the hill the sight was breathtaking and the far horizon line was clear from Hardale to the far peaks of Arador’s End in the North. The only shade on the main terrace of Glan Vraig came in the early hours of the morning from the slender columns that stabbed the blue sky like spears and that of the high, proud, standards on high poles, waving in the cool wind.
Turuninde was tired and searched for rest soon after their arrival but Turuviel felt restless. The old fortress provided more comfort than the tent smaller camps in the north but smelled and felt like war, with all its “no tomorrow” feel, with determination and fatalism, adrenaline and fury. A war that kept rolling for countless years and seemed to have no end, with each side taunting and harassing the other for advantages that lasted days or weeks. The Free People had no real hope of ending the threat forever as countless waves of enemies seemed to infinitely pour from the North. This frontline was to be held, with as little losses as possible, for as long as it was going to be a need for it,held until something else would decide the fate of the war. And keeping the line they were, elves, some dwarfs of the Misty Mountains and several other adventurers that seemed to run away here, at the end of their word, from a past they rarely spoke of or in search for a future that made them frown with anger and decision in their eyes. The walls of Glan Vraig welcomed them all and offered as much safety and comfort as it was to be had here. Some adventurer woodsmen offering their skill for good coin and extravagant rarities, that sold for even better coin in the more peaceful settlements, established also a small village east of the fortress, one that proved often a real pain to defend, and, somewhere in the west mountains, one other old fort were the few settlements in the moors that were constantly inhabited and well defended. Other than that the smaller encampments and forts were often won and lost and were not considered a reliable shelter.
The evening before was more peaceful than others. On top of the closest forts a keen eye could see the flags of the free people signaling that they were in control, and, at least in Glan Vraig the warriors used the respite to heal hearts with songs, around merry fires. The newcomers also brought from Imladris 2 pairs of small barrels, one on each side of their saddles, containing “a gift that will make hearts cheer and sing” as Sogadan put it. Cheered at they were indeed, the barrels, and they did not last much, but indeed they opened hearts and summoned song.
A dwarf of uncertain age seemed to be the heart of the party, raising the morale of all with his joy and confidence and wherever he joined he was welcomed with a cheer. He seemed to know all the stories of the moors and put them into song, with jokes and enough exaggeration to make the story worth listening to. Older and newer heroes of the Moors were mentioned as well as wargs and orcs that won their place in legends as well with how much trouble they managed to bring to the moors defenders. The others said that he was wielding an axe just as well as the lute and that his heart was made of steel, dwarf steel, strong and shining.
Turuviel thought to herself that her own heart was one of iron not steel.. Not fearing confrontation or bruises, but gaining rust flaws easily and weak compared to the fine steel that others wielded. Not to mention that it was no friend to salty waters, and the thought of that made Turuviel frown and wish for some more of that cheerful remedy from Sogadan or at least for a good fight.
