Thread: Dagor Dagorath

Gulf of Lune td text text text text text text text td td Nair It was a fault of Nairs to lose herself to her musings, and so it wasnt until the woman spoke that she knew her and Elvon were not alone. The rough tone caught her slightly off guard, and she stood up quickly, one fluid motion that made the skirts of her dress, and the hem of her cloak swish about her ankles. She was clearly startled though she assessed quickly that the stranger meant them no harm. A flush touched her pale cheeks for a moment. Embarrassed at having been caught off guard. That would be a poor thing to happen should they truly be approached by the enemy. She turned briefly to look at Elvon as he stepped from behind the tree. She was quiet through out his greeting and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She examined the woman. Taking in her manner of dress and her weapons. Her keen eyes picked out the scars on the womans face, even in the dim lighting. It was clear she was no stranger to fighting. If she chose to help them Nair felt she would be an asset. I am called Nair. I was travelling to the Grey Havens, to sail West with my kin when my path crossed Elvons. She paused for a moment, her gaze assessing. There is danger in what we propose. Everywhere the evil is growing, travel will be unsafe. She felt that this woman would be afraid of little, though she felt it necessary to caution, if only to be sure the woman was informed, should she choose to help them. Nair truly hoped that she would help. Despite living her entire life in Arda she had travelled little and so was of little use in this regard. She could navigate to an extent, but she had no idea the best roads to take nor the safest routes to travel. Though she supposed there was little safety to be had in these times. td td text text text text text text text td td text text text text text text text td td Altriel Aldburg It was an ill advised journey. Many people had warned her father against taking to the road, but the warnings fell on deaf ears. The sun and moon had been gone for a little over a week, but people still had to earn their living. Her father was no different. At some point his business would have to resume, and he could delay his trip into Rohan no longer. But Altriel had refused to let him go alone. It had been quite the argument. She refused to back down, something told the young woman if her father left her in Dol Amroth now she would never see him again. Times were too dangerous and too uncertain. No one in Dol Amroth, nor the entirety of Gondor, from what she had gleaned from the guards on patrol, knew what was going on. And the fear and uncertainty only seemed to be growing with each day that passed that did not bring a rising sun. She almost felt it would be a relief to escape the city for awhile. To be on the road with only her father and his hired guards. She was not a foolish woman, it would be dangerous. But at least, for a time, she could leave the chaos of the city behind. Now, Altriel felt as though she had made a mistake in not trying to convince her father to stay in Dol Amroth. Their journey had been plagued by difficulties. The worst coming two nights before when they were attacked by a band of orcs, no doubt drawn by the fire they used to keep warm on the particularly chilly night. One of the men had grabbed her and thrown her on her horse, swatting the geldings behind to spur him into motion. It was all jumbled confusion and adrenaline. The last thing she remembered before waking up in an inn in Aldburg was a sharp blow and the world spinning into blackness before her. As it turned out her fathers guard had delivered the blow when she tried to go back and help her father. He had left her at the inn, a few days paid in advance and gone back with what guards the city could spare, which were few, to try and help. The innkeepers wife had cleaned up the small gash on her forehead. That had been three days ago. One day past word had finally come. Some of the cities guards had ventured out to investigate when no one returned. There had been no survivors that they could find. Altriel was consumed by grief and uncertainty. What should she do? She had her gelding, and a full purse. But no direction or purpose. She spent some of her evenings in the common room of the inn, sitting close to the fire. She interacted very little with the other patrons, though she drew some attention, a lone woman in riding breeches, and a fine tunic. her dark hair left loose to fall down around her back and shoulders. Though some of them knew her story, passed on in whispers by the inn keeper, most did not and so she was a bit of an oddity. td td text text text text text text text td