There are few who live that have witnessed the Lady of the golden wood engaged in direct combat; she has not hefted a weapon since time immemorial, let alone weilded it directly against an honest threat. Her skill has resided, since the days of Doraith, in the use of fëa above all else. As the wild fury of her mount brings her into the center of the fray, however, she eschews her longstanding preference.
Her weapon of choice has never been a sword, but a sword she carries now, and while her skill in combat has dimmed since the first days, her ferocity has endured. Her tawny elk impales one wraith and she dismounts in motion, leaving the beast to drag it and throw the creature as it is wont. She does not spare the thought, nor the effort to bandy words with a ringwraith, charging it the moment her feet touch ground.
Her gaze falls heavily over the wraith as ancient steel clashes and the hollow, frigid thing twists beneath the weight of it. It is faster, stronger, even taller than she is, but existing in her presence is agony for the tainted things that dwell in the dark. It cannot both attack her and move away, and is clearly torn between the two.
She must finish her work quickly, she is needed elsewhere, for both her Grandsons and this new caravan that wanders through the wood. Elrohir is just beyond an arm's reach from her and she will not permit this thing to recall that he lives.
The wraith shrieks, lashes out with its blade and her own quakes as she blocks it. She does not parry, she does not need to. Instead, she steps in and catches the creature by the arm. Its armor hisses beneath her touch like hot metal against cold oil. The sound the creature makes is piercing and terrible, like the screeching drag of great talons clawing at the foundations of the earth. It unlike anything heard in these lands before this day, but it will not be the last time such a cry is heard on the borders of Lorien.
The light that envelopes her goes dull, falling to a bare shadow of moonglow, and the wraith is set alight in her place. It cannot withstand the arts she weilds and, as it screams its death, it collapses inward, robes and armor burning away in a rain of glowing ash and ember. Within seconds, all falls silent and its sword tumbles, burnt and blackened to the ground.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-06-13 02:03 am (UTC)Her weapon of choice has never been a sword, but a sword she carries now, and while her skill in combat has dimmed since the first days, her ferocity has endured. Her tawny elk impales one wraith and she dismounts in motion, leaving the beast to drag it and throw the creature as it is wont. She does not spare the thought, nor the effort to bandy words with a ringwraith, charging it the moment her feet touch ground.
Her gaze falls heavily over the wraith as ancient steel clashes and the hollow, frigid thing twists beneath the weight of it. It is faster, stronger, even taller than she is, but existing in her presence is agony for the tainted things that dwell in the dark. It cannot both attack her and move away, and is clearly torn between the two.
She must finish her work quickly, she is needed elsewhere, for both her Grandsons and this new caravan that wanders through the wood. Elrohir is just beyond an arm's reach from her and she will not permit this thing to recall that he lives.
The wraith shrieks, lashes out with its blade and her own quakes as she blocks it. She does not parry, she does not need to. Instead, she steps in and catches the creature by the arm. Its armor hisses beneath her touch like hot metal against cold oil. The sound the creature makes is piercing and terrible, like the screeching drag of great talons clawing at the foundations of the earth. It unlike anything heard in these lands before this day, but it will not be the last time such a cry is heard on the borders of Lorien.
The light that envelopes her goes dull, falling to a bare shadow of moonglow, and the wraith is set alight in her place. It cannot withstand the arts she weilds and, as it screams its death, it collapses inward, robes and armor burning away in a rain of glowing ash and ember. Within seconds, all falls silent and its sword tumbles, burnt and blackened to the ground.