The rise of Angmar unsettles the inhabitants of Rivendell.
The Witch-king Cometh
Imladris, Quelle, T.A. 1350
Dear Journal
Our Feanorion friend has been scouting out the North and brought dire news to Imladris about a new kingdom known as Angmar. It would seem that Lord Elrond's worries were not without basis. The wise ones are deep in discussion for hours in Elrond's study with falcons sent to Lorien and Mirkwood. Of course no one really cares about my two cents about the situation as long as I keep the wine warm and the snack table stocked. Maglor regretted that he had to flee Rhudaur post-haste after his cover was blown. It would seem that the new king of the kingdom is a hill-man and his court a puppet of neighbouring Angmar. Never has there been such widespread persecution of the Dunedain since the Dark days of Numenor before the fall.
There is talk of letting the Dunedain refugees find sanctuary in Imladris, which is quickly overruled by Erestor. Imladris is small enough as it is. We do not have the resources for additional mouths. Also, it is a needless risk of revealing the whereabouts of one of the Three Elven Rings. It would be better to rush them onwards to Cardolan and Arthedain. The current king of Cardolan does seem to be friendlier to Arthedain than his predecessors, perhaps thanks to the fact his queen was of Arthedainish extraction.
Lady Celebrian concerned about her lord's flagging spirits. Methinks a lesser elf would have long upped and sailed. Perhaps Elrond's hair will turn white and he will spout a beard like Cirdan's. Lady Celebrian most certainly will not be amused if that happens. She has given orders for a night of song and dance to take her lord's mind off weightier matters.
Imladris, Yestare, T.A. 1351
Dear Journal
A long line of elves outside the House of Healing this morning seeking bracing tonics or heartsease. Lady Celebrian did not show at breakfast, claiming weariness. Even Lord Elrond is looking peaked. More than a dozen families have applied leave to sail come spring. One would put it down to more than simply bad wine at last night's feast. Even I was not spared a visitation of one of Lord Irmo's warnings of Doom. Dare I put into words the vision of Shadow?
Here goes…
I dreamt I was standing atop a hill when I saw a dark rider without his head approach. Instead a fiery crown hovered. Maglor had the same nightmare. He awoke spewing fiery curses and groping for his blade. That was when I awoke for Maglor was groping me for his weapons, the both of us having passed out in the Hall of Fire from the Mettare feast.
Understand from the old elf that our vision was of one of the Nine, the Nazgul who serve the shadow. I had heard rumours of these wraiths from the Last Alliance where we believed them destroyed with Sauron. Guess our old foes are back.
Lindir singing to keep everyone's spirits up but he is little shaky today and not just from last night's wine. Fin training with his sword in the courtyard and muttering about how he wished he could duke it out with the wraiths for wrecking his reverie about his beloved in Aman. Well, better you than us, mellon nin.
Mithrandir popped up on our doorstep demanding an immediate audience with my lord Elrond and Glorfindel. Well, he got what he wanted. They are holed up in the study for the entire Yestare, even as I write. Not that anyone is in a celebratory mood.