SciFi and Fantasy Art: Tirithel & Maethor

What could be so important in this Middle Earth to warrant the long trip over the seas from the Blessed Land of Aman? What could be so worth disturbing the peace that the Noldor had toiled so long for and so hardly bought? Was this not the realm of men? Why couldn't they handle it. Yes- the time of the Elves had ended long ago. Her people had left these shores, entrusting it to the care of the Younger Race, and now they were failing and needed help again. Hmmmpf! Gandalf's expression had grown grave and serious. Tirithel had never seen it so. Having been born at the Return of the Noldor, Middle Earth was only a dream to her- a myth that parents told their children at bedtime to ease sleep. He had always been so merry and delightful to be around, with a smile that never ceased to beam and a laugh that echoed throughout Valinor. This setting was so different and so dark- why Gandalf had come here and why he had bid her come, she did not know. What business did a maker of fireworks and a storyteller have in this land? The air was close and hot in this world, and she felt something she had never experienced before. She felt a pang of fear in her heart, as was completely foreign to the Land of Aman, and it proved great unquiet within her in the days to come. Yet another RP character, who thought she was rather out of place in warrior's company, but fate has deigned otherwise.