Limiriel rubbed her gloved hands together; eyes narrowed as she watched Thendryt slowly make his way through the deep snow from her perch high up in a snow-laden pine. The surly man’s heavy footsteps jarred the silver night. She wrinkled her nose in a disdainful sneer and leaned back against the trunk.
Men.
How many lives had been destroyed at the dishonour, disloyalty of Men? They had brought death to the Eldar and the Naugrim and to those of their kind that defied the curse of the Lesser Race.
She snarled silently and sat up again, spear in hand.
Dwarves and elves fell as the black arrows of their turned allies rained on them from behind. In the rear guard, she could but brace her shield against the oncoming tide of new foes, screaming curse at the weakness of Men. Their blood ran bright and stained her white armour as the Naugrim cried out and rallied to the battle cries of their king.
A bush rustled in the chilly wind down below.
They did not deserve Arda. They had not fought to make it theirs. Time and again they fell to the Enemy and destroyed what small greatness their Race could build.
Her spear glinted in the moonlight as it skewered the warg slinking stealthily towards Thendryt. The man looked up sharply and hurried back towards the camp.
Limiriel leaped down, ignoring the snow falling on her shoulders as she retrieved her weapon. The blood instantly froze on the blade. Growling, she doubled around and kept to the trees on her way back to the hidden outpost. By the time she slunk in from the shadows, Thendryt was already wrapped in his cloak by the fire.
“Providing your services to our… guest?” Dolthafaer raised an eyebrow at the spear as she thawed the blood with a warmed cloth.
“I do not think the Albatross would have been glad of the paperwork should their Dog have been eaten.” Limiriel snarled, glowering as she cleaned the bright silver.
Dolthafaer hid his grin behind a cough and nodded. “Indeed.”
She looked up at him from the fire, dead-eyed. “Leaving on patrol with your little Arrows?”
He nodded.
With a snort, she squeezed out the bloody cloth into the flames. “Do not freeze, Pointy.”
