Eliriael

Dearest Belegos,

I write to you from Mirobel to tell you that I have left the search company for Lorien. By the time you receive this letter, I will be crossing the Redhorn Pass.

Forgive me for departing so suddenly. I fear for the safety of those who are dear to me and Lorien itself. I am unmistakably called to return and I cannot ignore it.

“She came in with the wind from the south…I do not know what brings her here in such haste.”

“She does not seem keen on staying long either.”

The guards taking the night watch continued to speculate in hushed voices. There was usually nothing to entertain their conversations aside from the blank sky and empty grey landscape. Thus, the swift approach of one elf maiden was enough to stir their curiosity for that night.

Eliriael sat upon the stone ledge with her legs folded in front of her. She had just returned from scouting the woods in the west with Belegos. They had little news for their kin who awaited them at their current encampment. All they had found was some information from Rangers about the surrounding areas. After some discussion, it seemed that their next course would lead them south. Perhaps there would be more promising signs to be found there.

The press was so close that Belegos could barely move his sword-arm and he was buffeted this way and that by the sheer weight of numbers around him. There were not many warriors in truth, but the cleft path was narrow and concentrated their force. He was perhaps four ranks behind the fighting troops and he noticed that the majority of those about him were of Glorfindel's House, and all of a sudden, whilst stuck in the heat and sway of the throng, he felt an immense loneliness. His thoughts turned to Eliriael, Vëon and the stranger who's care he had left them in.

The words sounded strange issuing from my mouth, yet still I gave voice to them. I urged for restraint, for her to remember who and what we are. The honour that we have fought so hard to win, and to keep; that cannot be so easily discarded. Who remains upon this darkened shore that is mightier in deed or in battle than us? The count is few indeed. Yet this night we have fallen far from such lofty claims, from glory and honour
to something far darker, far less fitting for those of our illustrious history.

Night was falling over Echad Dagoras, muting the color of the land into shadows. A quiet began to descend on the encampment as the elves of Vanimar settled themselves for rest after the long day of traveling. They had set out from Imladris under the cover of night and had not stopped to rest since then. Eliriael remembered the veil of night lifting for the arrival of dawn just as her feet splashed across the Ford of Bruinen.

As soon as the fallen had been buried, the lords made ready to assault the Dunlanders, whom they deemed were responsible for the attack on the outpost. Eliriael knew little of fighting and tactics, yet she was unwilling to let her kindred march into battle rashly. She thought they were too hasty for revenge and blood. For their actions would bring blood, and not only that of men.

      The pen skitters off the table and rolls across the floor, coming to a rest barely an inch from where Maltariel sits on the sill, looking out of the window at the dawn. She looks up at the sound, uncurling lithely to pick it up and walk slowly across the room, eyes on me as she holds it out. I grimace apologetically, pushing the ruined piece of parchment towards her as she drops into a chair opposite me.

Lady Rainith,

I have heard news from members of our House that you intend to begin a new order. For this reason, I write to you, with hopes that I may be of service to you under this order. I know little of battle and arms, yet still I wish to be of use to my kindred in other ways - through love, care, and healing of all kinds. At a time of your choosing, I ask to request an audience with you, so that I may inquire how I may best to serve.

~Eliriael