Éowyn demures and Elrohir is not so bold that he will insist upon her company. In truth, he has no idea the extent of her injuries; that she, likewise, could not possibly know what powers his grandmother holds escapes him. She decides to spread word among her people and that is both commendible and helpful, if only to the wardens' efforts. He inclines his head and touches his forehead briefly in a casual acknowledgement, another gesture learned and engrained in him by the wilds.
"As you wish. I shall seek out my brother. Rest well once your task is complete," he says but, as he turns to go, thinks to mention one last fact: "I know of nowhere safer than Lothlórien; inhospitable as it may seem, no further harm will come to you."
His assurances given, however convincing they might be, Elrohir steps away and into the shadowy wood. His pallor is the easiest feature to sight as he leaves the hazy glow of the torchlights, but even that is obscured before long. Where and how he finds his brother will remain a mystery until daybreak, but there are long hours before dawn will brighten the golden wood.
For the rest of the night, the wardens present work to keep the caravan together. A few of their brethren join them from the eastern borders, but in the end they are only half a dozen strong. One or two speaks broken Westron, barely enough to muddle through basic interaction. Their brevity and silence are intimidating, but their duty is clearly to watch over this caravan.
They keep the torches burning through the night, until the sky begins to lighten and the stars dim against the blue sky.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2025-06-19 05:02 am (UTC)"As you wish. I shall seek out my brother. Rest well once your task is complete," he says but, as he turns to go, thinks to mention one last fact: "I know of nowhere safer than Lothlórien; inhospitable as it may seem, no further harm will come to you."
His assurances given, however convincing they might be, Elrohir steps away and into the shadowy wood. His pallor is the easiest feature to sight as he leaves the hazy glow of the torchlights, but even that is obscured before long. Where and how he finds his brother will remain a mystery until daybreak, but there are long hours before dawn will brighten the golden wood.
For the rest of the night, the wardens present work to keep the caravan together. A few of their brethren join them from the eastern borders, but in the end they are only half a dozen strong. One or two speaks broken Westron, barely enough to muddle through basic interaction. Their brevity and silence are intimidating, but their duty is clearly to watch over this caravan.
They keep the torches burning through the night, until the sky begins to lighten and the stars dim against the blue sky.