Greetings, free people of Arda,
For the past few days, sailors on the ships in the Gulf of Lhûn and in the
Sea beyond have been bringing news of black shapes sailing the waters with
an unnatural speed, shrouded in a cold mist and most of the time heading West.
Upon hearing the news, fair Ciryariel, one of our most renowned ship-captains,
resolved to clear the mystery. It is with deep regret that I must inform you
that the splintered prow of the Númeninquë washed ashore this morning. We can
only assume the worst.