So we travelled West, on the great West road, north of Ered Nimrais; the white mountains. I remember the ghostly, horned peaks looming in the distance, disembodied above all in the fog, like great snow shrouded colossi - perhaps portentous of the impending repercussions of our flight from Malrond and Minas Tirith…
The first few nights were hard and the lady sought solace, away from the campfire in the dark of night, to console or berate herself; I do not know. I was humble indeed for the sacrifice she had made to be with me, to risk all for our love, and respected her wishes to be alone.
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