A cry of a gull. The crashing of waves against weathered stone. The pit-pattering of rain. The sounds of her homeland accompanied her as she departed the shining city of Dol Amroth.
"Come on, strong friend. Carry me swiftly and do not falter," she whispers to the black stallion that would take her far across the lands of the world.
Aearien spares only one last glance at her beloved city as her faithful friend whinnies and picks up his pace, cantering into a strong gallop down the path leading from the tall gates. She thinks of her father standing on the battlements, his reluctant permission still ringing in her ears. I will bring help, she promises the stone walls silently. I will not let the shadow take you.
Though the rain was constant, it was gentle. And through the clouded sky, a sliver of sunlight could be seen. As her gaze found itself settling upon the bay, her eyes caught grand ships, with their blue, billowy sails. And the water glittered as if a thousand silmarils had been placed carefully in the sea.
Pulling her horse back to a gentle trot for a moment, she lets her eyes linger on the beautiful sights of her sea. She watches as the sun returns from its hiding place among the clouds to set alight the sea and the land.
"Will you miss it too, strong one?" She pats the steed on his neck lovingly.
The stallion impatiently snorts and tries to pick up the pace again. With a quiet chuckle, she relents and lets him take up a gallop once more.
"Patience," she says, her expression turning serious as she looks to the horizon. "It is a long and daunting road to Eriador. Finding our northern kin in the wilds will be like finding a single silver needle in a sprawling haystack. But we must find them. We have no other choice."
Another cry of a gull brings her attention back to the sea.
Where once before the water was calm and glittering, now the waves flew with a great force against the shores. Where once the water was blue and clear, now was gray and murky. Where once the sun had begun to shine through the rain, now it had retreated as if in fear of the storm that was brewing. Where once the gulls flew serenely over the waves, now they flew north; perhaps guiding her on her journey, or perhaps a warning for what was to come.
"I do not know if the Rangers of the North will even hear our plea," she murmurs, her grip tightening on the reins. "But I fear ill will towards us and our kin, strong one. We must be careful. Now fly!"
