In the Land of Perpetual Summer, we met an ent. He was a Scotch Pine ent, very tall with a somewhat dubious accent and a rather difficult name: Galadhith. But he was friendly and full of information.
It turned out that the Land of Perpetual Summer, like the beads of the Bead People, was a triumph of recycling. It was heated and lit by a fragment of Illuin, the great Northern lamp of the Valar which once lit Middle Earth in its earliest years, before even the Elves were awake. Someone had picked it up, brushed it off, and thought: "I reckon I could fix this, you know." And did. Which is pretty impressive work really, even by Noldor standards.
The Recycler of Lamp Parts was one Amrunnë, a Maia affiliated to Yavanna. She had become rather strange and odd after thousands of years more or less alone apart from a bunch of Avari (not surprising really. We met the Avari. They were not overflowing with enterprise. Singing the same old songs, year after year after year, living in a tree, it would drive anyone nuts.)
Her oddness had manifested itself in capturing the Blue wizard Morinehtar - that was the chap who we were looking for - and entrapping him a living cage made of Huorns. We were told by Helpful the Ent that she also banned anyone from leaving the Land of Perpetual Summer. Oh dear, we thought. We are really going to have some serious trouble here.
But Helpful the Ent also had other news. He had made friends with a wandering melancholy Elf who had been hanging out up on the coast, singing to himself. This suggested a Worrying Thought, but just to hammer it home, I had a prophetic dream about him. Well, we all had dreams, but I can't remember the others. Oh, except that young Thrár dreamed of a Gigantic Hoard, restoring the wealth of the impoverished house of Belegost.
Note to self; keep an eye on Thrár and make sure nobody slips him any familiar-looking Rings. Now I think about it, building a Giant Hoard is exactly what a dwarf would be likely to do if he got in the way of any Rings of Power, and not everyone has my restraint in that department. ( I do have an early prototype Ring of Fire of my own manufacture, as it happens, but I've been ever so careful not to use it - well, only three times - so I'm *almost* sure I haven't been spotted by anyone who happens to be wearing the One Ring at the moment. )
So: choices. We could try to chop the Huorns into smithereens, grab the wizard and hope the Maia couldn't stop us on our way out - which frankly seemed like it was most likely to end up with ALL of us sitting in a giant Cage of Huorns for no very logical reason. Or, we could go and see the sad singing Elf, and cross our fingers. We went for option 2.
And O! the shock! the sad singing Elf was, as I had suspected, the last living Son of Fëanor; the great singer-prince Maglor.
It was very strange and troubling to meet him again after all these years, when we had had no news of him since he vanished with the Silmaril so very long ago, leaving the remnant of the Noldor of his house all in confusion. He asked me how his nephew Celebrimbor was doing. Having to break the news that everything poor Celebrimbor had made had gone horribly wrong, that he had been tortured to death and then used as a battle-flag by unstoppable armies of Orcs was a very sad and terrible moment.
At this point, young Thorofin had an inspiration, and suggested that Maglor should be introduced to Amrunnë. It was a thought wise beyond his years. Maglor had seen and done far too much for one life, Amrunnë had lived her long, long life in hiding and had seen and done very little. They had a great deal to talk about.
She was so intrigued by Maglor that she agreed to release the Blue Wizard, and put up no objections to our leaving the Land of Perpetual Summer. Of course, I had to ask Maglor how he felt about that, since it was fairly clear that I owed allegiance to him as rightful High King of the Noldor. But he was happy to leave that poisoned chalice to poor Gil-galad, and release me from any obligation towards him, and one really can't blame him for that. (Blame him for quite a lot of other things, arguably yes, but fortunately nobody brought up the history at that point, for which I was profoundly grateful.)
I would have thought the Blue wizard Morinehtar would have been out of there like a dose of salts, having been released, but these emissaries of the Valar are strange folk, and he decided to stay in the Land of Perpetual Summer for a while. I can only hope he behaves himself. Based on previous experience, I trust people who show up claiming that they are emissaries of the Valar about as far as I can throw them, which admittedly based on my earlier Dwarf-tossing achievements is a certain distance.
The other Blue wizard, Pa-pa-ri-mo decided to set off back to distant Chey, and I was pleased to see the back of him too. Travelling with emissaries of the Valar gives me the itch, it makes travelling with three Elves that have every reason to be holding a grudge seem positively healthful.
And so, feeling that on the whole things were going reasonably well, we set off West to the land of Myr, where we had heard rumours that strange Elves might be living. There still seems to be a great deal left to do!
I don't have any drawings for this segment, so here is a shot from a flash-back battle that we fought between Orcs and Dwarves, in the run-up to the great Dwarf-Orc battle of Mount Gundabad. I am sorry to have to report that despite rallying heroically after their initial set-back and many heroic battlecries, the Dwarves were eventually wiped out almost to the last Dwarf, although their commander did escape and live to fight another day.
The Orcs also took heavy casualties. I attribute their eventual success to the fact that the Orcs had stolen the Heroic Green Dice of the Noldor, (probably during the fall of Nargothrond), and so the Dwarves were left to fight using only the Inadequate Blue Dice of Failure, which I am sure rolled far lower than averages would have you believe they should.
... in 2016, we continued the campaign HERE