Board Thread:Middle Earth Roleplay Board/@comment-26210095-20151111125728/@comment-26444332-20151112002156

Faenor reaches out, his fingertips brushing against the pendant. The song of the Ainur vibrates through it, filling his mind with a beautiful vision of all that was, is, and what could be..

"Sir! The armies of the Enemy are flying! We have them on the run!" a soldier says, bursting in. Faenor snatches his hand away with a relieved sigh.

"Thank you." he says to the soldier, quickly closing the box.

"Take this back to Lóriën. It will be safe there, for now. Better yet, take it to Mirkwood. The clearing, where I and Niquissiel married. Take it there." he tells Pelinel. The other Elf nods and strides out of the tent, calling off a horse.

Faenor walks to the cot unsteadily, grabbing his swords, quiver, and bow from the small wicker stand nearby. He walks out to see the armies of Sauron in full flight, the Uruks and Umbarans in disarray, and everywhere the sun peeking out from the dark clouds above. He turns to the Uruk armies, closing his eyes.

"I may not have the strength to fight with a blade, but I have recharged enough to do this!" he says, his eyes snapping open to reveal a pale glow. He sweeps his upturned palms forwards in sharp diagonal slices, first one, then the other. He watches with satisfaction as fire and water rip through the lines, devastating the remaining enemies.