Mornenion, as he began to enter consciousness, felt a sharp pain in his head. He shot up, looking about panicked for a moment. He thought the dream was repeating itself. The dream. Again, the image of how the dream started flashed through Mornenion's mind.
Mornenion, as he remembered the rest of the vivid dream, began to look angrier and angrier.
He muttered, like he did in his dream, something about Lorien being deranged and that his people were right in not trusting the Valar. Mornenion pushed the blue blanket off of him and stood up out of bed, turning around and straightened the blanket and sheets of his bed. He walked over to his dresser, slipping out of his nightwear and taking some undergarments, suddenly going rigid and looking rather disgusted. Mornenion put the undergarments on quickly, then taking out his white undertunic and slipping it on, as well as his greyish-black trousers, pulling them up and tightening the cord around them so they stayed up. Mornenion then took out his purple overtunic and put that on over the top of his undertunic. He then got out a silky pair of socks and put them on his feet, then went to the door of his house, where his plain black shoes sat next to several tall pairs of boots. Mornenion picked up the shoes and moved to the bench, putting them on his feet.
The Avari stood and went back to his door, stepping outside for a moment, breathing in the fresh morning air. It was quite light out - Mornenion realised he'd slept in later than he usually did, as he got up when it was still dark, as he usually didn't need much sleep, as he's an elf. He walked over to the basin fall of fresh water outside his house, cupping some of the water in his hands and then splashing it onto his face and wiping it over with his hand to make sure he was clean.
Images of the dream flashed in Mornenion's mind again and his expression soured even more. He walked back into his house and to his bedroom, starting to take off his purple overtunic, putting it back in the drawer. The elf seemed very frustrated and indecisive. He then took off his undertunic, replacing it, with a simple black shirt. Mornenion then kicked off his shoes, quite violently, and they flew into the wall near the window of his bedroom. He then opened the bottom drawer of his dresser and took out a leather chestpiece and then the rest of his armour, putting it all on, except for the helmet, as he didn't need it. He also grabbed a piece of leather from the mantlepiece of the fireplace, tying his hair up into it's usual bun.
The elf moved over to the chest where he kept his wealth, which leaning against it was his longbow and quiver. He put the quiver on his back and took his longbow in hand, moving towards the door, pulling his hood up as he reached it and went outside.
Mornenion locked the door to his little house, his expression still stormy and moved off at a fast place towards the Old Watchtower, where The Black Steel's training hall stood.
There, he shot the targets for hours and hours on end, not really noticing Gaeded, Cedwyn, Caithryth and Boreon come to train at one point. He stopped once the sun had set. He still looked angry, but a little less confused. The day he spent shooting had allowed for him to come to a conclusion about the dream he had, even if he didn't understand it fully.
It was just another punishment.
