Board Thread:Fun and Games/@comment-25344655-20141025230340/@comment-25344655-20141027212833

As Glosur walked around the ruins of the once fair city of Rivendell he sighed. He was immortal like an elf, a rare trait in a dwarf, so he had met Elrond half-elven. He was a very nice fellow, but since he went west to valinor Glosur had become head of the council of the free peoples, as no wizards other that Altar and Pallando were left in Middle-earth. He grazed his hand along the elven brick while he looked at the crumbled roofs and toppled walls, he told no one this. Not even his advisor, Gamil. But he had been alive for almost as long as Elrond himself. He had seen battle, and was there at the council of Elrond where the Ring-Bearer Frodo set off to mordor to destroy the one ring, and stared sadly at the little table where the ring was placed, and where Bofur sang Bilbo's song of the Man in the Moon. So many fond memories, so many sad ones.

"Sigh." "How I wish my father was here." He stopped, he had to prepare himself, he heard the clatter of hooves. Someone's here.