Return of Absence

Faorie and her steed walked through the falling snow of the mountains, every step crunching the mounds beneath them. The night sky and ice were not the sole cause for the chill atmosphere of the region, for Thendryt's position and duty to Rivendell was soon to meet its end.

Thendryt had proven himself unsuitable for his role as a warrior and protector of the hidden vale; and in this, his reputation as such would no doubt find itself at a farewell. His clasp and cloak would be returned to the Council and his presence in the valley would no longer be required.

“Thendryt!” Faorie called out.

Thendryt stood beside his black steed, Bovad, staring out at the snowy peaks of the distant Misty Mountains. His armour was tainted black with crimson stains, presumably blood, scattered across his body.

Faorie furrowed her brow, gripping the reigns of her white steed, Ebrail, that stood silently beside her. “Thendryt,” she repeated more quietly.

The vale was quiet as it usually was.

The sun was slowly rising, lighting the upper half of the Homely House. This was what Faorie could see as she rode into Imladris with Thendryt's journal stored into Ebrail's left satchel. Slowing down, she crossed the vine draped bridge of Rivendell, shifting her gaze across the landscape.

"Any man not eager to share his tales must be very wounded within."

Those were the words that Nelnardis had shared with Faorie some time ago in the Hall of Fire. It had been nearly a week since Thendryt's departure from Rivendell and she could still see the unsettling shadow in his gaze.

The Hall of Fire was still and empty. The large fireplaces, burning with its usual comforting flames, lit the hall with its soft glow. Not a single elf stirred. Except one.