teremonth

Reiven read the note for a second or third time which was telling her to turn in the sword to Lord Veryacano.

“What is that?” Volina asked as she walked in to the room.

“It’s nothing…” Reiven gave her a slight smile then asked after a brief pause “Everything ready?”

Volina nodded slowly extending a vial to her.

She was feeling all alone…

Like an empty sea shell.

Away from her home, her friends…

Away from Teremonth…

Although under the cover of the night she couldn’t really tell the difference of the view outside the window, she still was feeling it deep in her heart.

“I disappointed him…”

“And did he not disappoint you?”

“I was right to send Daegond to find Turuviel and the sword. And I knew it is getting closer even before they ride into the valley” Reiven sighed softly “I should stay away from it and let them find a solution…” continued muttering to herself as walking in the halls blindly before her appearance caught by the others. She was too late to shift away…

Flames are dancing around the branches with a soft, sweet whispering as my thoughts wandering in the well of words…

Soft breeze is sweeping over the long green grasses, shaking the leaves of old oaks which surround us…

And I am listening…

I am watching…

I am hearing the gentle steps of Lady Rainiths’ bare feet, so soft… even timid  

Reiven looked at her own reflection on the mirror. No scars, no age lines, nothing from the past years…  “Nothing”  she thought and her looks fell down to her palm where she can still see the thin line of the cut. It was healing fast and she knew it will disappear soon enough.

Teremonth was sleeping quietly next to her. Reiven watched him breathing steadily yet she couldn’t dare to fall asleep. It was her watch to wait for him, to hold his hand, to whisper gentle words in his ear for chasing off his nightmares. Two nights he told her, for two nights he couldn’t sleep. His face was so pale and eyes looked restless he didn’t need to say a word that Reiven didn’t know.

Cirdamir reminded me a legend I read as a child. The story of Gurthang. So many similarities.. but is this an age for such powerful artefacts to manifest their good or evil power? Would the sword of a random Noldor soldier possess such spell? I was wandering Duillond when I saw Reiven again. Likely or not if Cirdamir saw such similarities I should warn her.

Inside of me I can feel only cold… Not because of the freezing waters flowing around my legs of the stream but the shadows casted around me…

I can feel the burning on my wrist once where the mark was. It’s not burning with fire but ice this time…

I can hear the call of long lost souls more than I hear living…