It was a long walk, a very long walk, east and south from the cold northern shores of the Bead people, where of old was foul Utumno. Far, far into the endless waving grasses of the Plains of Alcar.
Soon we met some Men, the Nurniags. At first they seemed acceptable enough. But then.... I saw the banners they had mounted in their Great Yurt.
One of them, positioned in a place of high honor, was the banner of Ulfang the Betrayer! These people, who seemed cheerful, comfortable, numorous and prosperous, were the descendents of the Faithless! I was severely tempted to test exactly how inflammable yurts are, and Thorofin was with me (I think he also lost relatives in the Nirnaeth when Ulfang turned on us).
We were just about to begin a glorious battle of several thousand Nurniags against two Noldor, when Thrandin son of Fundin did some extremely fast talking and managed to convince us that holding people responsible for the actions of their many times great grandparents is a bit unfair. I'm still not entirely convinced, but he seemed very clear on the subject. So we let Thrár, son of Thangrin sing his song about the Nirnaeth, which certainly gave them something to think about, and richly they deserved it too.
We went on and met a Lost Heir, but he seemed a bit useless so we left him sitting sadly in his yurt and walked on, on, endlessly across the Plains of Alcar.
Finally, we met some people! Not lost Heirs, but the tribe of the Ioriags. I forget much detail about them, but they had yurts too, and were possibly in alliance with a dark wizard, who we didn't meet.
Instead, we went off looking for another wizard of whom we had heard, one Pa-pa-ri-mo. We didn't find him, but we did find a suspiciously smug looking goatherd, who had lost a goat to a marauding troll. There was nothing we could detect about his face or manner that suggested he was not the simple goatherd that he claimed to be, so we went after the troll.
It was a most peculiar troll, for it was out in daylight, and yet had not been set into stone, in that way that is a mark of the creatures of the Great Darkness. Even more oddly, when we killed it, it turned to a pebble, and so did the goat. I had a bad feeling about this.
And sure enough, when we got back to the goatherd, he had turned into a blue-cloaked wizard, name of Pa-pa-ri-mo. And he claimed to be an envoy of the Valar, carrying important information, just for us.
Where have I heard that one before? I thought to myself, and resolved to keep a very careful eye on him.
He asked for our help in finding his friend, Morinehtar. Hum, I thought. So the important information is that you want us to turn around and go miles out of our way for your convenience? Maybe you are from the Valar after all. And that's not necessarily a good thing.
But the rest of the party wanted to go with him. So back we went, weeks and weeks across the wide seas of grass, north across the tundra of the Land of Urd in the brief bright summer of the far North. Even Kar-cark the raven who travelled with Thingolodh could find no sign of any wizard, although to be honest, I think that bird's eyesight is going, he never seems to spot anything out of the ordinary.
Up, up into the wild and fearful mountains north of Urd, where nobody ever goes, where the wind cuts like a knife and the snow falls even in the middle of summertime, looking for a lost wizard who was not so much a needle in a haystack, so much as a needle-tip thrown to the winds among the endless grasslands of the Plains of Alcar.
Up into the mountains of Uab, and there we burned our dwarf-cart. We had to burn it on the mountain-shoulder when the way became too rough for it. We hoped it might make a beacon for any wizard that might be wandering lost in the wide lands below.
We came up out of the wild wind and the snow, over the shoulder of the mountain, and there before us lay a land of unlikely gold and green: a land of perpetual summer, surrounded by icy mountains on the northern rim of the world.
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