"Some things that should not have been forgotten were lost."
Eru Ilúvatar. The Creator. The Father of all within Eä. It was he who began it, the shaping of the universe and its inhabitants. He bore knowledge in all things; knowledge of things that w...
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2933 TA. March 7th. North-West. Eriador. The Far Downs. Borderlands of The Shire. Forty leagues ﴾approximately 140 miles﴿ from the Brandywine Bridge.
The scenery surrounding the Enkarēin Prince was nothing short of breathtaking, bequeathing in its wake an enveloping semblance of euphoria and serenity. A healing salve for his sorrowful soul. A warmth, as is expected from a balletic dancing of flames, swathed his senses, albeit the air amidst him was crisp and cold. The sky was an intermingling of heated hues of amber and gold as the sun began to surface behind the verdant juniper valley. Scattered amidst the lavish lands were lush trees; maple, oak, and pine. A sea of saturated jewels stained amethyst, citrine, emerald, and topaz. A shroud of grey mist lingered about the land like a swirling satin clinging upon the curb of his dreams. The surrounding foliage filled the air with a spicy, sweet fragrance. A heady essence of apricots, freesia, and pine. In unison with the biddable breeze came the blossoming melody of a morning chorus, beseeched by an array of birds and that of the crimson cardinal.
Once more the scene before him could be described as nothing less than time standing still... Yet forthwith he found himself surrounded not amidst despair and loss, yet delight and life!
Solan picked up his feet, having discovered both his spirits and strength renewed. He trekked his way down the eastward slope and it was there at the bottom he came to find a rather agreeable place to rest. He had traversed many miles and as he thought on it, he could scarcely recount when last he had sleep or sustenance. Beneath a large oak tree he came to be, settling down upon the gelid morning grass, he shed his cloak along with his sack and sword. Therein, he erected a fire from the kindling he had gathered and departed from his recently elevated encampment in search of food. He was well versed in hunting, so it was not a surprising thing when he returned successfully with a brace of coneys. He prepared them in the way he knew best, and when he had his fill he drew out his bedroll. He came to lay upon it and cradling his head within his hands, he found himself suddenly overcome with the lulling of the lyrical sounds of nature surrounding him. The lids of his eyes lay low and soon he drifted off into a deep sleep.
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Bang!
An explosion of thunder tore across the verdant valley as a brilliant bolt of bloodless lightning struck the earth, bathing the beclouded vale in an eerie luminous effulgence. Like a taut trebuchet, the Enkarēin Prince came upright from whence he lay. The aftershock thrummed amidst the air, the turbulent clouds and skies were a ruinous, vulcanite-black and spoke of impending doom.
A heaviness hung about Solan's head, and his vision was vague. 'The day... 'tis... gone!' He thought to himself. 'I slept through its entirety?' Once more his lids fell low and with the palms of his hands, he proceeded to erase the sleep that was there. Albeit, upon the lifting of his lids, the scene splayed out before him was no longer a verdant valley, yet a direful display.
