Thread: Fellowship Of Forodwaith (Karameida & darkangel76)

The night had seemed to pass quickly, Brynne rising before the sun shone its first rays of light upon the frozen tundras of Forodwaith. A part of her felt a strange sadness as she packed what little she had into her tiny rucksack. The tribes of the Lossoth had proven far kinder than the stories she'd heard growing up in Dale. Still, she supposed part of that might have been due to circumstance, but no matter. These were not her people and she longed for home, for... She paused a moment as her thoughts flitted to a past nearly forgotten. She was a girl again, awkward and naive. Her nimble fingers moving to sew one of her finest creations, one that would come to be most dear. One she never thought she'd see again. It didn't take long for Brynne to find herself ready and soon reaching back towards Vaemyr's outstretched hand. She imagined a smile on his lips as he called to her, urging her to take him up on his offer as he looked down upon her face, his eyes eager, a desperate longing that had grown over the years of separation. Ah, she was silly to play pretend at such things. One day she might be silly enough to believe the notions true and that was a dangerous game better left alone. She was far too intelligent to let herself be fooled by such things, though she knew she could hardly help the feelings her father's best man at arms conjured up any time he was near. Cheeks growing warm, Brynne couldn't help but notice the warmth of Vaemyr's palm as their hands slid together, fingers entwining for a moment far too brief for her liking. Though perhaps it was for the best. He had no interest in clearly someone he still viewed as a child. Heart heavy, she tried not to notice the closeness, the way his strong arms encircled her body as they rode. Instead, she tried to focus on the hoofbeats of his horse, the way they rose and fell under his trot. But it was no use. Aye, Brynne answered, nodding slightly as the wind bit against her flesh. The morning air was cold and bitter, harsh just like the land surrounding them. I will. Her dark hair fluttered behind her shoulders as they rode, her tiny hands moving to try and tuck it away, worried it might bother or even hinder Vaemyr as they rode onward to Lindon. Time seemed to pass and Brynne refused to complain. She would not be a burden during this hard journey if she could see to it. Though the cold was starting to get to her, seeping deep into her bones as the day wore on. Her mouth had gone dry and traces of a headache were edging her vision as she squinted out upon the vast snows. I... Brynne finally said, breaking the long quiet, her body shivering slightly. I need to rest, I... she felt ashamed. Why wasn't Vaemyr in need of anything? I need water. I'm so cold. Meanwhile, Maran walked side by side with her old teacher. The air was bitingly cold, the sky bright though clouds seemed to be slowly rolling in from across the seas. A storm? Perhaps. Such weather was common in the frozen north, though she wished she could ease the unsettling thoughts weighing on her mind. Her entire journey since leaving the haven of Rivendell had been filled with dangers, unexpected perils that even Elrond hadn't been able to predict with his gift of foresight. It was disconcerting to say the least, but the wise elf had been right to urge her family to Lindon. For their purpose had been far greater than merely healing those poisoned by this newfound evil seeping into the lands. Maran nodded, silver strands glistening with the snow as the sun's shining rays filtered down upon the traveling pair. She tugged on her cloak, her lithe body longing for the green of the forest. This is what frightens me, dear En, Maran stated softly, her gray eyes peering into the distance, ever watchful. Never had the light of day been so welcome. It meant orcs would be scarce, the evil beasts only roaming once safely hidden from the sun's direct light. For a moment, she thought of her family, of Orrin. Her resolve only grew as her sorrow deepened. Elrond senses something growing in the north. It has been affecting it for centuries, though now it also affects Lindon. We can no longer play a neutral role. Not when our kinsmen's lives are at stake. Her cheeks flushed. It's been bothering me for far longer, though father has always said it is not our place to interfere, but... her voice trailed and she pursed her lips. Maran had always believed that all creatures were tied to Arda, the fate of the Ring, to each other. Though she knew not everyone was of the same opinion. It had bothered her knowing her that others were suffering, people, the land. They were Illvatar's chosen, most beloved of all. It was up to them to preserve, not run. However, run was precisely what her family had been sent to assist in Lindon. Though a part of her detested the idea, she feared for her friends and family suffering so close to rising darkness. They needed sanctuary. They needed to flee. But there was no way they could do so without help. Her family was to heal and then aid in the discrete march to the Gray Havens where her kinsmen could sail the ships to the Undying Lands. It was Elrond's wish. It was also the hope of Lindon, a means to preserve Elven kind. The time has come. I...I just wish there was another way, Maran went on. She explained why her family had been traveling to Lindon, their importance. She knew En would understand. She also knew En would understand her struggles. With pleading eyes, she hoped her former teacher knew how they might do better by her people, by her values. It was a selfish thought, at least in part, but Maran's ideals also had little to do with herself and more to do with a wider view of the world. What do you expect we might find in Lindon? she then asked, though her thoughts turned to the castle she knew had awakened and brought orcs to the north.