|
Tired are the arms which fought a long battle and tired are the feet which brought him this far, but Eönwë, the Herald of Manwë himself had bade him carry the news into this part of the world about the defeat of the Dark Lord. He had spotted the three riders half an hour ago on the horizon and had hidden himself among the grass. When they got nearer he saw that one of them was an elf. They weren't servants of the Dark Lord then. He stood up to show himself. He was a middle-aged man with a strong physique. A long, fresh scar ran down the left side of his face. It looked to be only a few days old.
"Hail travellers! Let it be known in the name of Manwë the great that the power of the Dark Lord is no more. Three days ago he was overcome in a great battle. When we had lost all hope the host of the Valar came and overthrew Morgoth, the one originally known as Melkor. Tell this joyous news to anyone you meet friends. I have to move on to spread the news even further."
He picked up his pack from the grass, but looked at the three travelers, as if waiting whether they had questions.
|