Ithilwë

There were fell voices on the air. Whispers that I could make no sense of. The wind was cold and biting against my skin. It howled and moaned in my ears, but still, the whispers were tangible. My feet cannot move through the snow. Is it snow? Is it something else? I cannot move.

When I fall asleep, I know not whether it will be dreamless, or whether I will see things, either joyful or horrifying. The unknown is something that makes me fearful. The thought of not knowing what will come to me in my dreams, presses me with anxiety.

But when I wake up, none of that will matter. For when I wake up, it is within his arms, or him within mine. 

Together.

Now, I know that waking with him by my side is a given. No matter what comes in the night, he is there. And if he is not? I shall know that he has not gone far. 

The winds snapped and billowed around the small camp, causing the Northling to pull the furs up further across his head and body shortly before a boot softly nudged into his thigh followed by a amused voice. "Breakfast is ready, runt."  The man sat down beside him, placing a plate infront of Ioranir who simply replied with a growl.

a sequel to this story

This is a second sequal to this story.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

a sequel to this story

“The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride.”

this story is a pure allegory for what Amathlan fears he will become. view Pride's POV here. view Patience's POV here.

It is not often that I get to take a long breath. A deep breath. Usually my breathing is marked by the dire straits of adrenaline in war, or by the choking pressure on my throat of pride and anger. For once, I can breathe freely, and all is well. The air in Imladris is fresh and without fear, and it is welcome in my lungs. 

I stare down at the ring on my finger. Unlike the traditions of Men, we bear our rings on our right index finger. This is the one time I am grateful that I bear arms with my left hand; there is less of a chance of me losing the ring whilst swinging a sword. (Though it is not as if I plan to bear arms again anytime soon). 

"You never told me where you would. Make a home for yourself, that is." He had asked, seemingly nervous.

He has told me many a time, how one day he will build a home, in the hills of Evendim. A home that overlooks the glittering waters of the wide lake. A home where he can observe the sun climb and then sleep over the mountains.