Maeglin rides to Gondolin on his loyal owlbear. The city he had been stolen from. He feels nervous about his first conquest alone; all he’s ever known was Angband, his fathers, and the hounds.

“Okay Maeglin, you can do this. If you can take out half an army single-handedly, you take over some pathetic elves without dying.” He mumbles to himself. His owlbear huffs at his antics. His orcs laugh around him, wrestling and bellowing. He smiles. He trained this troop.