Turuviel

I stand upon a hill, overlooking the river Lhûn. Down below, within its swirling waters, a number of ships carrying the banners of Loth-i-Lonnath waving in the wind, lies anchored at the docks of Thamas Lorn; and like great white swans they ride the streams, only awaiting the moment to spread their wings and take flight towards the north. For that is where the herth is going, to meet dangers unknown, but this time, I'm not going with them.

  Many are the days that the Grey Watch keeps the roads of Ered Luin safe and sound. Long are the nights we watch the ravines of Rath Teraig, and keep a constant vigil to prevent the coarse goblins from wandering out into our domain. There is plenty of work to do, and we - the Wardens of the Grey Watch - we do it well. From the shores of Mithlond and its tall and proud watchtowers, to the great dwarven halls in the north, we make our way with spear and shield, with bow and arrow.

The boat left Celondim in the cool, dark night. The moon struggled hard to bring its silvery light through the thick and obese clouds, but there was no victory to be had tonight. The gray veil in the sky equally obscured the stars and the wind was practically non-existent. A heavy sigh escaped from my lips as the ship slowly, gradually moved over the Lhûn towards Mithlond. Along the riverbank, amongst the reed and vegetation, I noticed aggregations of fish being hunted by larger predators.

“I was right to send Daegond to find Turuviel and the sword. And I knew it is getting closer even before they ride into the valley” Reiven sighed softly “I should stay away from it and let them find a solution…” continued muttering to herself as walking in the halls blindly before her appearance caught by the others. She was too late to shift away…

Flames are dancing around the branches with a soft, sweet whispering as my thoughts wandering in the well of words…

Soft breeze is sweeping over the long green grasses, shaking the leaves of old oaks which surround us…

And I am listening…

I am watching…

I am hearing the gentle steps of Lady Rainiths’ bare feet, so soft… even timid  

Reiven looked at her own reflection on the mirror. No scars, no age lines, nothing from the past years…  “Nothing”  she thought and her looks fell down to her palm where she can still see the thin line of the cut. It was healing fast and she knew it will disappear soon enough.

A sword sparkled coldly under the bright light of the moon while leaving its sheath… Nothing moved other than the soft wind blowing around them. Reiven watched the hooded he elf shouting behind her blurred vision.