Disclaimer: The characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only, and all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkien.
Travelling with elves from Mithlond, Mithrandir now ventured inland to begin his mission proper.
He carried a staff, but wore a sword and knew well how to wield it. At least he knew the wielding in theory. But when they were attacked by the abominations, Melkor’s get, and he swung the sword in self-defence it was very different.
The feeling as the edge hit flesh and shuddered into the body, dark blood pouring forth, was new.
Years later, Mithrandir realised just how well he had become accustomed to this life the first time such killing did not make him retch.