A armored elf silhouette draws on the half crumbled wall, looking exaggerated tall, like the shade belonged to a giant. The elf stands still like a statue, one would think him asleep, even like this, standing tall and a hand on his spear and one on the intricate pommel of the sword at his belt the rubies on which burn in the firelight they reflect from the campfire improvised between the ruins. Yet at a second glance the same one would notice the elf’s eyes are narrowed in attentive listening. He’s only holding guard for many a thousandth’s night by a campfire somewhere under the open night’s sky, or by a gate, near a tree, pillar or throne, as used to it as a rock of the mountain is used to holding its place.
His eyes fixed on the darkness outside descend to the several silhouettes asleep around the fire in the main room that still stands from this old house –now pretiously called by travelers the refugee of Echad Eregion- in improvised campaign-like beds. The one that moved and made the noise that caught his attention is a reddish haired she-elf dressed in a thin and more ceremonial looking than sturdy scale armor of obvious Lothlorien style. The warrior’s mouth moves into a small skeptic grimace on the real use of it. Not a soldier for sure this strange traveling elf, still the old guard was impressed how she showed no disdain or discontent at the modest conditions in the camp with a simplicity in major contrast with her delicate-fashionable attire.
Her companion –the elf frowns slightly again- a man friend to Rivendell seems in a deep sleep.. Strange travelers indeed! Yet he refused not his shelter or his guarding to any who asked it in ages, of his kind or not, while he felt no evil intention behind their eyes. He trusted enough his experience and his sword if that one would be wrong. The two were not talkative but they seemed to search something of importance in the South. They were not the first strange fellowship he saw in the last months.
The close eyelids of the she-elf battered and she sighed in her sleep while turning her face from the light of the fire, her thin hand crumpling her blanket as seeking something to hold on to. She was most probably not in the best of dreams but who but children has better- he would not disturb her sleep for that little. She might not get any safe sleep and any shelter above her head at all a few days ahead, at least until they reach the hold of Mirobel.
May the stars guard their path – he raised a moment his shoulders then straightening his back and returned his gaze to the darkness outside.
