As Nimtolien and what remained of his army got closer to their lands, the more smoke and devastation they could see.

"This is not the work of Orcs." Amandil pointed out.

Nimtolien had decided to cross the river and then cross into their lands over the Gleaming Bridge since he had thought that the Orcs would have crossed there. When they arrived at the bridge, a Ranger came out to greet them. Nimtolien did not recognise him, but he looked distraught and walking towards the returning Rangers, tears appeared in his eyes.

The Ranger fell to his knees at Nimtolien's feet.

"You have returned, my Captain! We had feared you dead..."

Nimtolien helped the Ranger back to his feet, wincing in pain as strain was put on his shoulder.

"What is your name my friend?" He asked, one hand on the Ranger's shoulder.

"I am Gimildur. I was charged with holding the bridge by Naragil when he launched his assault against the dragon."

Gasps and murmurs echoed behind Nimtolien as grief fell over him.

"Escort me across the bridge Gimildur, and tell me everything."

As they crossed the bridge, finally returning to the lands of Amon Sûl, Gimildur told them of Ohen's attack and his demands. And he spoke of Naragil who had fallen when standing against the dragon.

"We march north to rid ourselves of one threat only to return to find our lands in ruin. Naragil was brave to stand against the dragon, but he could not have hoped to defeat it with so few men and no weapons strong enough to pierce a dragon's scales." Nimtolien said, massaging his shoulder. "I must return to Amon Sûl at once. Some who followed me north shall stay at the Sildë Yanta and you, Gimildur, shall be it's keeper since Naragil trusted you with it. Amandil, find out how much of our land has been destroyed and return to me at Amon Sûl when you are done. Súrion and Anárion, return with me to Amon Sûl, we have much to discuss."

As Beleg walked down the tower's steps to welcome home those who had gone to war, Nimtolien thought he looked older and ashamed.

"Beleg, my old friend, there was nothing you could have done to prevent the dragon's wrath. Our victory in the north has been hidden by our losses both in our lands and without. Now we must recover, come we must talk."

The council room was a welcome sight to Nimtolien despite having always hated it. As his most trusted sat around the table, he gazed at them all. When they had left Amon Sûl, hopes had been high. Now, his friends and advisers all seemed to have aged and the effects of war and grief had struck them. Nimtolien took a seat and lowered himself gently, trying to minimise the pain. After what seemed like days of discussing the effects of the war, Ohen's arrival, the security of their lands and many other matters that needed addressing, all had been discussed. And it was time for the returning Rangers to recover, at least until Ohen's return.