The fortress of Himring stood firm through many battles, for such was its commander

On the greatest hill of the northeast the Himring castle rises alone. But it's not always lonely: in the early days of spring, when the snows have not yet melted, Lord Fingon the Valiant comes riding from Hithlum to visit his proud friend, and the walls of Himring wake with the welcoming horns.

Lord Fingon's visits are brief. And, though he brings with him wine and song, he rarely brings change. For Morgoth is ever-scheming, and so the guardians of Himring must be ever-watchful. And so the soldiers come to the castle grounds to sharpen their swords, to train, to talk with their guests of battles won and lost.

Lord Maedhros and Lord Fingon often join them, though they stand aside. At times they, too, pick up their sharp noldorin blades and dance on the black stones the only dance they both remember best; The dance of combat. But such times are rare, for mostly the lords of noldor watch their warriors in silence. And if they talk, it's quiet: a shared glance, and Lord Fingon reaches upwards with a whisper and a chuckle, and Lord Maedhros smiles in response. And, once again, a shared silence settles between them, and few dare to break it.

True, Lords Fingon's visits are brief. And brief are the smiles of Lord Maedhros.



Author's note: Maedhros is my favourite character of The Legendarium, and I often find myself thinking of his fate, his valiant deeds and his tragic death. Thus, Himring is my favourite place to escape to in the vast world of Arda. I'm planning to do a series of ambients, focusing on different areas of the fortress at different times.

Come, escape with me.

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