Estariell had walked through the Iceland known as Forochel.
It was cold and unforgiving.
She had found it very similar to that of her life at the given time.
It was here that her Mother had been killed.
It was here when her nightmare had begun.
The blood, the blade and her Mother's piercing cry had rung through her ears time and again.
She had failed her Mother and her family.
Their number were too great.
The Men of Angmar were brutal and without mercy.
Then again she was young and hardly could lift a blade at the time.
Nevertheless she was now alone in Middle-Earth.
Save the few times her Brethren actually find her.
Tears were shed but she had cursed herself inwardly.
It was not the time for tears.
It was the time to move on.
