Hithaeglir

Act III, Part XIV: The Horse and the Whistle

Somewhere in the North High Pass, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace 

Day 7, Foredawn

Black blood splattered across the snow.

A hollow scream pierced through the air, and Díllothel drew back her two-handed sword. The orc that she had killed crumpled to the floor in a foul heap. She raised her blade up to cleave the head off another and let out a string of curses.

Somewhere in the North High Pass, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace 

Day 6, Late Watches 

Ascending the Pass of Whitcleft in the Misty Mountains, Third Age 2462
Two years after the end of the Watchful Peace

Day 3, Morning

Second Age; 1716, a week after the encounter…

Undómion had a sense of paranoia about leaving his Talan, and remained on the platform within the Mallorn. He felt humiliated. How could he be bested by this one maid?

“You have the looks of a love-struck elf.”

‘No, I do not! So much happened too fast…the forest is enchanted!’ “Perhaps.”

The forest was special in its own way…even the inhabitants. Still, he should have at least kept composure when saying his name.

“But what if I want to come home? What if it's all too strange, and I get frightened? What if I miss you all too much?” Linneth suppressed a laugh, looking at the small face of her daughter, crumpled with worry. She held out her arms, and Caethel ran forward and scrambled on to her lap, pressing her face against the front of her mother's robes. Gently, Linneth stroked her hair, waiting until Caethel pulled back a little and stared up into her face, grey eyes clouded with anxiety.

Luthelian rested her hand against her forehead, the dizzying effects of her head injury not entirely having left her.

“For the remainder of this mission, your duty is to watch the camp. You will not wander from your post.”

“But, my lord! That is unfair. I can help the others scout.” Surely, he would not make her entirely useless during their time in the Hithaeglir. Her head pounded more as her temper rose.

The icy wind came to meet her in great force as soon as she opened the heavy iron door to the outside. The storm still raged on, winds howling across the mountainsides, sweeping the snow across the landscape. Yet it was better than the confines of the inner keep, packed to the brim with warm bodies and stale air. Besides, it was nearly stifling to be in such close proximity with Tancamir any longer.