Faorie and her steed walked through the falling snow of the mountains, every step crunching the mounds beneath them. The night sky and ice were not the sole cause for the chill atmosphere of the region, for Thendryt's position and duty to Rivendell was soon to meet its end.
Thendryt had proven himself unsuitable for his role as a warrior and protector of the hidden vale; and in this, his reputation as such would no doubt find itself at a farewell. His clasp and cloak would be returned to the Council and his presence in the valley would no longer be required.
It had never brought pleasure to Faorie to see warriors leave their company for many had presented themselves valiantly in battle and respectively in formal gatherings, but there are some that choose to move the oath they had taken aside and act on their own benefit. And this was the reason Faorie felt remorse for the circumstances Thendryt had found himself in, for he had shown great promise in the beginning. He had proven himself worthy in battle, strong in character, and a man of great determination. But all of these qualities matter not when one has broken the oath they had sworn to uphold, for this proves that among all these positive attributes there is a cause for distrust.
And if one cannot trust their own fellow warriors, then what success can one hope to achieve in the midst of shadow?
Faorie continued on silently, intently pondering over her thoughts. A cold breeze sent a shiver through her body. She slowed her steed and pulled her cloak over her shoulders to cover her mouth and nose. Then came a sound of a subtle drop, as if something had fallen from her belongings. Ebrail stopped in his tracks and Faorie turned herself to examine the snow around her. The ground glowed a faint shade of blue emanating from the moonlight where the piles of snow and ice seemed relatively undisturbed besides the clear tracks of her steed... and something else.
Faorie dismounted herself and stepped towards the item. Picking it up, she brushed the flakes off of its cover to find the journal she had initially discovered in Delossad. She held the leather book with both her hands, staring down hard.
“You don't know me, Elf. You never have.” Thendryt's words from earlier echoed in her head. “My weakness is none of your concern nor is it your place to judge me.”
Faorie furrowed her brow, clutching at the journal's sides tightly. Ebrail snorted loudly at her, but she paid no attention for her mind was rushing with various images of Thendryt she had established in her mind...
Strong warrior, secretive man. Defender of the inhabitants of the vale. Untrustworthy and suspicious. Mighty and determined. Once an ally... once a friend.
Positive and negative qualities, some extreme while others are not.
Thendryt's journal lay plain and accessible in her hands, snowflakes occasionally landing on its cover before gentle breezes would blow them away. Faorie turned the book on its side, the spine facing the ground. She placed her thumbs over the center of the pages, as if to open it – but she did not. She held it this way for a long moment before forcing herself back to Ebrail where she stored the journal safely back into his hanging satchels, tied the straps securely as to not risk it dropping again, and mounted herself comfortably over his saddle. She bit her lip, looking to the side. She knew what she had to do – to do what was right.
Faorie pulled on Ebrail's reigns, turning him around and off she galloped into the wintery mists of the mountains in search for Thendryt.
If she is to learn of Thendryt and his demons, she would hear it from his own voice, clear and unfiltered – and not from the private writings of a fallen man.
Faorie races back in search for Thendryt.
End of Part 2 of 4
Part III - Another in Search of Thendryt
