Eregion

Fire. Burnt wood, turned into charcoal in a blaze of energy. How it should have warmed, yet the flickering of the flames could not pry away the feeling of dread. The night over the once fruitful and lively land had come and gone, leaving its guests scurrying to prepare breakfast, feed the horses and plan for the morrow.

Minyelaire's hand reached into the grey fur of Radbug. What a good companion he was. His nose had led her right where she wanted to go. Her blood-red lips set a slight kiss on the beasts snout, whose tail swings from one side to the other. The Avar can make out Daerundros, to her surprise Nimlith... but where is the ranger?

In slow motion, Daerundros beheld the chaos-of-an-argument happening before her. Her eyes flicked towards her counterpart Minyelaírë as her left hand shot up to the small and readied hand crossbow on her side. With a swift movement, less than a second, she had fired it. Amlarad staggered as the bolt cleanly penetrated his thigh. He grimaced in severe pain and doubled over, helpless on the snow.

Minyelaire kept her hood down in her face. She stood rather relaxed there before him, like a crimson figure, a wraith of dread, light reflects on her from the snow, ltting her glow in a terribly light. Daerundros, in her horror, looked down to see her fallen companion being cornered by the hooded face. Amlarad slowed his breathing and slid his gaze down his blade, aimed squarely from afar at her crimson chest. No! In haste Daerundros jumped down hurriedly and landed lightly on her feet, losing her balance.

It just came to my attention that a few people had drawn comparisons between Minye and Daer and found them to an extent similar... true, they are. But not so similar :p

I stand on the edge of the circle of firelight, looking out into the night. The hunter has already left, vanishing into the gloom, and as Lady Athlidhrael turns back to the gathering behind us there is a moment when the whole night seems to stretch emptily before me. The slight breeze lifts my hair, sending strands of it dancing across my face. Without the encircling mountains of Rivendell, the carpet of stars above seems almost endless. I remember previous journeys here: riding at night, moving like a shadow among these mournful lands.

"Shall we commence?" I asked, unsheathing my sword as Minyelaírë took her scimitar from her hilt and did the same, taking that as a yes.
Minyelaírë struck first, leaping over me in a remarkable feat of acrobatics. I caught most of the movement as she landed by my side, aiming for my foot as she drove her scimitar to the ground. I quickly pulled my leg out of the way, as she jumped again, to the side, and attempted to slash at me.