Nimraph tossed and turned for about the millionth time that night. The Angmarim man was absolutely not used to this heat. He came from a harsh, cold climate where the sun never existed. He was used to wearing heavy clothes all year round out of necessity. This heat was unbearable. He did notice, however, that even Egfor, a man from the South, was suffering just as much as he.
'Maybe due to all of his hair…'
He mused to himself for a moment. He sighs and carefully rises from bed, being sure not to disturb Eira's sleep.
He took a moment to admire her sleeping form, how peaceful she looked. She was relaxed for once, no anxiety or stress on her face. His thoughts dwelled on her for several long moments. He looked up and gazed out the window, hesitating. There was an orange glow some distance away.
He steps to the window and parts the drapes, peering through the darkness.
It was fire. It was in the direction of some fields, and he knew that Dem's fields were that way. Panic jolted through him like a shock. He crept quietly out, grabbing a linen scarf that he was sure was his bride to be's. He tied it around his neck to use in case he got too close. He threw on light clothes and tugged on his boots, slipping out into the night.
He swiftly saddled up his horse and vaulted up onto the steed, spurring off towards the fire. He rode hard and fast on his black horse. As he neared the fire, the air became heavy and noxious. He pulled the scarf over his face.
He flung himself off his horse at the scene. He was flung a horse harness. With a little aid, he was hooking up his horse to a wagon and driving back and forth between the river and the blaze before he knew what was happening.
He saw Egfor on the front line, yelling to coordinate people to dig a firebreak. He shot past Dem on another wagon hauling water.
For once, Nimraph wasn't the one razing the land and setting fire to things; he was trying to save the land and its people.
