Estarfin

The dusk had arrived and Elloen was camping with the others at the Redhorn gate. He looked at his companions while he laid himself down, waiting for the sleep to arrive.

He looked at Rainith and her bare feet, which now were at the level of his eyes. A faint smile got in his lips because she was always thus which made her seem very casual to him, but now they were at the root of Caradhras, and she would have to lay her feet on the snow. Elloen felt a bit silly that he didn't bring any spare pair of shoes.

What do I know about the Lady Rainith? Now that I try to recall her, actually very little, yet in the short time that we have spent together I feel that she has become more open to me, or at least less close. Perhaps this is not the opportune time to write these 'observations', for I am sure that along the way I will learn more about all of my companions. For better or worse.

Estarfin sat with his back resting against the holly tree as he wrote feverishly. The quill was almost a blur as it scratched almost illegible Tengwar script onto the pale parchment. His face was in shadow under the bright moonlight as he had pulled his hood to cover his hair and wrapped his thick black cloak about himself. Occasionally he paused and re-read the words that he had written, a look of confusion upon his face as he quickly crossed out whole sections of the text. He would then stare at one of the others, waiting for them to look at him before looking away quickly.

Rainith and Belegos are mighty frank and familiar towards each other; they seem as old friends reunited. I sit by the fire, a little apart from the company, waiting for this accursed haunch to finish cooking. The spit is set too high over the flames, but these burn so hot that to roast the meat any closer will char it.

Continued from Blood in Eregion

Elloen rode out of the Valley a day ago, and he had arrived to Eregion. He looked at the ruins, and thoughts of home came into his mind: "Home. What home? I have lived in Imladris since..." and suddenly he felt smaller - he had returned to his childhood. Suddenly he felt himself as the same adolescent child that he had once been when Eregion was assaulted.

The silver-toothed comb passed smoothly through his thick dark hair, with only the faintest of rasping sounds; the usually coarse mane that he bore smoothed almost to silk. He had been combing it slowly for the past hour, the repetitive motion calming his mind and allowing the anger and frustration to flow out of him. As his thoughts became clearer, he began to think of the progress that they had made so far. They had left the valley of Imladris far behind and had journeyed south, across the High Moor and through passes that he did not know.