He pulled the hood up a little higher on his head while he sat huddled around the fire, looking over to Cynhaer with a grin. "Lucky to find you, traveler. I'd be face down in the scrub of these parts... How did you find me all the way out here?"
Cynhaer smiled and looked to Baralinion and placed a hand on his. "Luck, and by the seven stars. The Lady sent me. Alkawen still moves in these lands but she is far and to the north, in the lands beyond the Vales."
Baralinion gave a weakened smile and a soft chuckle of relief. "That brings such a joy to my heart... That is where my journey takes me! I follow a sparrow there, she has guided my path since I was separated from my owl."
Cynhaer lowered his head and his gaze and stared into the smouldering embers of the fire. "She's waiting."
The rangerling woke softly to the gentle patter of rain upon the rocks around him as he tried to huddle in closer to the rocky outcropping under which he lay. Sighing and giving a grunt of frusteration, he pushed himself from the ground and pulled an apple from his pack and began to undo the cordage around his collar to remove his shirt and change his tunic.
The wind bit into his skin, filling the blackened veins with what felt like thousands of sharp needles, each movement carrying in it a flinch of pain that was bitten back in unrelenting resilience. The apple fell and thudded on the ground as his body gave way and he landed upon the grass with a thud and began sucking air and clawing at the shirt to try to bring it to his chest for anything that might quench the pain that seethed through his body. His cries for help only surfacing as gurgles and shrills as spittle flew from his mouth as he could only mutter "Crownlight."
The pain subsided after several months and Baralinion could do nothing but lay there and twitch as his body began to calm back down under the increasing downfall of rain. Sobbing as he pushed himself closer under the rock and huddled himself around his shirt, his eyes widened and bloodshot, tossing his gaze across the landscape like a wounded animal scanning for any sort of exit.
He slowly pulled the shirt away from the scars where the wound once lay, where the bolt pierced his chest and the blackened veins spreading throughout had now reached out past his sternum. His fingers brushed over them softly and his confusion only increased as they were hot to the touch but his skin was iced cold and had lost most of its color...
The familiar voice jolted him and forced his weary eyed attention to the traveler once more.
"Baralinion?! What happened? Are you alright lad? Your eyes? Whats.. Whats that on your chest?" Cynhaer had dropped the pile of sticks and twigs to rekindle the fire and fallen to his knees at his comrades side.
"Cynhaer.. I'm okay, just.. Just a fever dream. I'm fine, truly." Baralinion replied with a forced smile and a hoarse chuckle. "Thought I saw a ghost."
"Bara, you look like a ghost... What happened." Cynhaer placed his hand upon Baralinions shoulder and pulled the shirt back from his grasp just a hair, enough to see the veins peering up from the wickedly shaped scar upon the mans chest. His jaw slacking as he looked to Baralinion.
"You need a healer. You need Her... She's in the Mirkwood, Bara.. You must go there. She is the only one who can fix this evil.. Do not tarry here." Cynhaer's own eyes had grown wide at the sight of the mans affliction, knowing not the history behind it or the marking which he bore but seeing it clearly came with a burden.
"She calls to me, Cynhaer. They all do.. I can hear them, They're in the Mirkwood. I can feel it."
"Then come, little sparrow. Sing for me while we walk."
