The hunter stood preparing his equipment for the coming battle, emotions running deep in his mind as he tried to settle his restless soul. She came to his mind as he softly touched the stone around his neck as he did s many times before, closing his eyes softly. He remembered words he had told her, that had seemingly upset her, but it was so she would not think him foolish..
When he had been found deep within the Trollshaws, he told her that he did not come because of love, watching her reactions to his words. His heart sank as he watched her grow frustrated, seemingly angry at just the thought. He was relieved, yet heartbroken at the same time, for he thought she only saw him as all the others did. A dark, hunter, untested and feared. There was something in her eyes that told him otherwise, he paused for a moment as he stopped to think of her eyes. Brighter than any sapphire the dwarves could ever find, full of emotion, constantly watching, looking far deeper than just the surface.
Cynraede called her princess, because she was far fairer than any princess, queen, or woman he had come to meet yet. He had heard rumors of the Lady of the Golden Wood, they spoke of her beauty, even so that the elves thought she was of perfect creation. He did not love her because of her beauty, her personality spoke volumes about her. Her physical beauty complimented that of her mind, a whole, pure woman.
The truth was, that was the exact reason he was there. He cared for her, he knew she was weak and worried for her safety. The burning deep within his heart told him he should follow her, to be her silent guardian to her destination.
Long ago, in the Combe and Wattle in, He and Duramarth had been talking of plans to go and explore new regions to expand his mining company. She walked in, Covered head to toe, yet her beauty still radiated from her as she was a bright star twinkling in the night. She had told him of something she lost, her horse, Daysey and some of her belongings when she had been taken by the person she called the 'Amber man'. He had planned on setting out that night on a lone venture, to recover her horse and what belonged to her.
He tied the belt around his waist over the tunic, pulling it firmly and puling at the blades. The army of the enemy moved quickly, gaining ground each moment that passed by. They measured five hundred to twenty five. Rannie had mentioned something earlier about luck, which made him smile and just the thought. Cynraede knew he did not live on luck, or skill, he lived because it was not his time to be taken from this world, there was still much to be done. The least of which was to rid this mans head, from his filth body, and send a message to all whom oppose the order. Death, comes to those who seek it.
He pulled his crimson hood over his worn and ashen face, closing his eyes as he knelt, whispering a prayer. Hoping, the package had made its way to Alkawen in time.
"Death, to those who oppose light. From the shadow, birthed into light, guide my blade, move my hand. I am your instrument, lead me, allow me to be a beacon of hope to these people. Let me rid the world of this darkness once more. For it is who judges, and I who arrange the meeting."
