The foothills which rise to the west give way to the vales, soft plains of dry and warm earth, rolling gently before you. To the east, the fabled Gladden fields lie; to the north, the river herself echos a gentle call. The grasses here are short and verdant, rippling in the breeze. But further east, dense sprawling brambles begin to rise.The sky is clear. The dawn summer air is very hot and dry around you.
The moon is not visible.
================== Eldarin Calendar in Sindarin ===================
IC time is: Dawn About 6:41 AM
IC day is: Oranor Sun-day
IC date is: 20 Laer Summer
Moon phase: Waxing Gibbous VISIBLE
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 3 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor TA 3027
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RL time: Wed Oct 09 09:14:02 2002
Dawn comes as it does every morning, as familiar as breathing yet strange and foriegn as everything is lately. Breathing grows unfamiliar as hot and dry air sears and parches the lungs, and the dawn is cast across new lands, the colors brasher, brighter, attacking the eyes.But still Caelwen watches it, gaze half-shuttered and wincing. She stands in grasses to her knees, stave propped on one end-- a walking stick again. And perhaps she looks eastward for reasons beyond the sunrise.
The past few days of running, lost from their comrades and harried by apparently tireless wargs, has left its mark on Lothdaimoth. Dark eyes jump ceaselessly over the treeless landscape, lingering on every clump of grass. His face is pale, even more than normal, and lines of anxiety and fear have drawn themselves finely along his eyes and mouth. And by how his gaze goes ever and again to Caelwen, it may be certain who most of the fear is for. Finally, he moves a step forward. "Come." His voice is gentle, weary, very quiet, and even as he speaks, he does not look away from their surroundings. "I have not seen the last warg for some time. I think it may have gone to join its pack to the south." A nervous glance over tense shoulders. "Let us try to veer east again
It takes a moment for Caelwen to respond as she stares away into the distance as though enthralled by some minute thing far away. "Aye, Lothdaimoth," she replies numbly. She blinks, and unlike her cousin's frantic gaze that flies hither and thither, she looks away only once, and to him. Her voice comes again, small and faintly meek. "But when might we rest? You seem fearfully tired, cousin. And I am, too." But her feet lift from where they were planted, and she wades through the grasses toward the sunrise, walking finally, not running.
"I know." Lothdaimoth's voice is rough, perhaps with fatigue. "In a little, we may rest." A few stalks of grass rustle and his eyes fly there at once, bow beginning to raise; before he realizes it is just the wind. And his voice tightens. "We must get as far as we can. There are worse things in these lands than wolves."
"Aye," Caelwen whispers, shoulders hunching and feet finding some reserve of energy that urges them just a bit faster. "I felt it when first we ran." She shivers, and finds herself moving closer to her cousin as they walk. "I wish we were closer to home, and could just go /there/." Her voice lilts briefly with distress; emotion finding her again. "Where do you suppose everyone else has gone? Do you suppose they will wait for us
The rising sun paints the eastern sky in brilliant colors; colors that melt so seamlessly one to the next that where they change cannot be told. And the coming of day brings some small relief of the tension that tightens Lothdaimoth's jaw and twitches at the corners of his mouth. "I am not certain. I know where is the pass that we must take.. if none wait for us where the fire was, we must head towards it."
The brief rainstorm several days ago has vanished without trace, and again dry grasses whisper about their feet as they walk. Step as quietly as they might, and for the Firstborn of Arda this is very quiet; still some small sound is made. None save another of their kindred might hear it though and no trace of footsteps are left behind. "Then it is only a few days further to Imladhris and the safety of the Peredhel's valley."
"So we must only walk a few days to safety, then?" Caelwen asks, and faster now she strides at the thought, her staff making more noise in the grasses than she does. "I thought... well, I was worried that we might... well, nevermind." She sighs, and slips a sidelong glance to Lothdaimoth. "I am so very glad you know where we are. I would be lost without you."
A sigh. Reluctantly, the counsel says, "Nay. I meant tis but a few days after we make it safely across the pass. Here.." He stops in his tracks, turning in all directions. Shading his eyes with one hand, his bow still held in the other, he only turns to continue walking when no movement is seen anywhere within reach of his vision. Two long strides suffice to bring him again to Caelwen's side. "It has been nigh on two days since the wolves attacked. We must return there - though I fear to..." Voice trailing off, he is silent for long minutes; a brooding frown creasing his forehead. "Then, if none wait there, we must try and make our way to the pass. Were we closer - and did not yrch and warg bar our path, I would counsel returning to Lorien. But I think that is now more dangerous than continuing on."
The sinking of her buoyed spirits plunges Caelwen even lower, and her tread slows as her shoulders slump again. A sigh, and silence for a time aside from the faint crunching of their quiet footsteps. The numbed, listless voice returns. "Well, let us not think on it. Though I am glad Father stuck bread and lembas into my pack for me." A half-smile lifts. "He gave me a note to tell me not to let you eat it all. Oh! I am glad he does not know of this, so he does not worry!"
For the first time, Lothdaimoth stops for a reason not directly related to flight. "Lembas?" he says, almost blankly. It seems that minor considerations like food have slipped his mind completely. And a smile spreads itself across his face, the first for two days. "Caelwen..." He shakes his head, long tangled strands of black hair swinging freely behind him, and wraps one arm around her in an exuberant hug. "By all means, let us eat!" The sun is fully above the horizon, in the still hot air nothing moves beyond a fitful breeze.
His arm thrown about her, Caelwen stills with a relieved sigh, and turns to hug Lothdaimoth tightly despite the forever-hot air. "I am so glad you are here." Her voice is muffled in his shoulder. "Though I would not wish you in peril." She steps back, and abrupty flops to the ground with stave clattering away, settling herself cross-legged with another grateful sigh.
"I think we ought to eat the loaf Ada packed," she continues, tone chatty as though this were nothing more than a social visit. "It will go bad before the lembas would." She unslings her pack from behind her and eases out a parchment-wrapped package. Some of it is already eaten; she rips of a fist-sized lump and passes it, wrapper and all, to Lothdaimoth. She smiles to him. "Look at what he wrote on the paper. Ai! I miss everyone so much!" Her hand shakes as she holds out the loaf, trembling the paper and betraying the stress she strives to hide.
Aiya, Hiril Collwen!
Well, well, I would ask of you how far you had travelled ere you found this note, yet I should think a reply would return no sooner than will you! Ada and Miluiel and your Rogin Firnalas (he is sighing quite often now, is he not?) all miss you very much and hope you will come home soon and safe. But did neither of them think that mayhap the Indiri would like to eat? Ai! Do not worry, all will be well at home, and they will be sighing still when you return.
Ada
PS: Do not let Caranteil eat it all!
Lothdaimoth does not sit, for several minutes after Caelwen has plumped herself down, he turns about peering across the waving empty lands that slope down towards the river. Even when he is satisfied, he but crouches down beside her. His bow is laid aside, but ready to hand - one of his dwindling supply of arrows placed beside it. For a brief time after Caelwen hands him the loaf, there is no sound nearby save the crinkling of the wrapper. Bugs hiss and buzz and hum hidden in the tall weeds, and somewhere far above, a lone bird circles lazily. The pervasive heat presses down like a smothering blanket; but suddenly all this is broken by the sound of laughter. "I will not eat it all. And my feet are no redder than anyone else's." Breaking off a bit of the loaf, he begins to chew, stretching himself up to glance around.
"Your feet are not red?" Caelwen lilts, a thin layer of cheerfulness stretched loosely over the fear in her voice. "After all this running? And this heat? Look! You do not sit even now. You manage to redden them even without grapes." The young Silvan is savoring her father's gift, holding the diminishing lump of bread in both hands and eating as slowly as possible. Tears shimmer in her eyes; she swallows forcefully and allows none to fall.
His own small hunk of bread is gone, but Lothdaimoth says nothing about more. Instead, he follows his cousin's lead, lightening his voice and forcing some humor into his tone. "I don't see how you can tell - or are Indiri granted some special gift of eyesight? That of seeing through leather?" He winks, and balances on one leg, stretching the other forth for her perview. "Tis booted you see, speaking of such, you might say my feet were brown..."
Caelwen pops the last bit of the bread into her mouth, and she covers her eyes as she chews. She swallows, sniffs loudly, and drops her hand to squint at his foot. "Aye," The word quavers, she takes a breath and speaks calm. "Aye, we can see better than the common elves." She actually chuckles at this, then looks up. "Your feet are red, not brown! And so are mine." She holds her hand up. "Are you done with the loaf?"
Wordlessly, Lothdaimoth hands the remaining half-loaf back, along with its crumpled letter-wrapper. Bow and arrow are gathered without glancing at them. Straightening, he stares around again, then reaches one hand down in offer of aid. "We should be going. And..." He stops, swallows, and begins again. "It should be safe enough in the daylight.. still. Be very careful. Ill lurks in wait and we must not tarry." Deliberately making his tone casual, he ends, "If you see any of the beasts that chased us, tell me - I would prefer not to leave my arrows lying about this cursed plain."
Caelwen tightens the wrapper carefully about the loaf and slips it into her pack. She takes Lothdaimoth's hand and stands again, legs shaking the least bit. Her pack is once more shouldered, stave retrieved, and she glances at him. "Aye, cousin. I will." She starts again walking, automatically placing one foot before the other, wading through the heat and grasses. "Do we rest at night?" She queries gently. "Although... honestly, I could probably make myself go another day or two. Or we could take turns resting while walking. That would undoubtedly be best. What say you?"
"Let us see how far we are when even draws on. If you have need, tell me and I will watch." This he says, as if he has ever stopped watching. Toward the river lowlands again, they set their course - east into the rising glory of the sun. Long and wavering, their shadows stretch behind them, walking as they walk, turning as they turn. One carries a bow, arrow already strung and ready. The other's steps are echoed always by a stick, long and sturdy.