Post by Maglor on Feb 9, 2006 11:53:46 GMT
Maglor threw himself from the warhorse, patting its glossy, steaming neck and throwing the reins to a groom, offing his cloak as he dtrode from the inner water, up a flight of steps into a hallway, up another flight of wide, shallow steps into a large room, where the north winds that blew from Angband did not penetrate, although a great fire burned, smelling sweetly of herbs and applewood. His body servant took his plumed helm from him, another brought a deep goblet of hot, spiced wine.
He went to a great table, and sat down, stretching his mail encased legs, he had been away fro a week, riding into Lothlann with his troops.
