Raolor

„Time does not tarry ever, […] but change and growth is not in all things and places alike.
For the Elves the world moves, and it moves both very swift and very slow.
 

Clash of steel.

Sparks.

The young elf desperately parried.

The last strike disarmed him.

The problem with associating with elves on a regular basis, Eirallyn reflected as she arranged for Yaisaelwen's care with the Celondim stable master, was that no matter how cleanly one was, there were always times when one felt grungy and grubby around them. For instance the stable master, despite his profession, looked to her eyes to be cleaner and more put together than she herself did at the moment, despite regular baths in some damned cold streams and even a hot tub in an inn or two between here and Imladris.

A gust of wind.
Whispers in the grass.
The breath of Ard-Galen.
Whispers in the grass.
If the meadows stop breathing,
Valariandë will fall, they say.
A gust of wind.
Whispers in the grass.
I can hear it…
The breath of Ard-Galen.

„When the wolves of Angamando tear your flesh apart and break your bones, and devour your intestines you will think about me, Macilvelco, Yonya. You will understand my words… but it will be too late by then.“