As he closed his eyes, he felt how the room became smaller.
He could feel the dread crawl up from deep within himself and gnaw at his heart.
The scars on his body ached, as he remembered each and every one.
Faörie unlaced her shoulder wrap and gently laid it on her bedroom table beside her clasp. As she unbuttoned the collar to her leather armour she fixed her gaze steadily onto her reflection in a long mirror hanging from her wall. She allowed her armour to slide off of her shoulders, down her arms, hitting the ground with air audibly shifting from beneath.
Her belts still clung at her sides, small pouches tied to the ends of the straps, and her boots were dirtied - soon needing to be cleaned. Her undershirt was a dark blue colour and her arms were bare in the mirror.
Over her left arm was a long, darker toned scar from her incident with healer Forostel far beyond the borders of Lothlorien where an Orc party attacked. Faörie had saved Forostel's life, nearly risking her own due to the recklessness of earlier actions, and from this she had learned a lesson she will not soon forget...
Faörie firmly placed her hand on her once wounded shoulder and tightened her grip. She furrowed her brow, dissatisfaction and frustration visible on her expression. For a moment, she remained still, gripping her shoulder, glaring at herself in the mirror before she relaxed again.
Sighing gently, she lowered her hand back to her side and lowered her gaze to the ground as she entered deep thought. "Trust," Faörie whispered to herself. She raised her hand and rubbed her temples, shutting her eyes closed tight. Trust, she repeated but this time in her mind. I do not understand. I cannot comprehend how it can be that so many can act so rashly, so foolishly.
Faörie opened her eyes and looked in the mirror again, examining herself.
Her words had echoed that of Forostel's once, but now Forostel is like those she had judged - those whose actions she had chosen not to understand.
Elisbeth had also shared word with Faörie regarding her trust in her kinsmen. "Everyone has their secrets," she had said, "Have faith in your allies, their secrets are of no threat to you. Trust, Faörie."
Then Thendryt, that same night, had suggested that something was amiss. Thendryt. The one she aims so hard to trust, and yet...
"Trust... that is an interesting word. It seems a rather particular word of speculation recently."
A past conversation was remembered.
"Tell me: why should I not have faith in what I am seeing?"
It was a test of a sort. One with no consequence...
And then Thendryt spoke.
"Everything in this world is subject to change. Myself included."
Then came the real test.
"Speak honestly, Thendryt."
One with great consequence.
"Is there something I should know of?"
And his answer...
Faörie snatched her armour from the ground and took her shoulder wrap from the table in a rush. As she turned, the clasp of the Warband fell to the ground, making a clinking sound as it repeatedly bounced off the ground until it finally landed. Faörie turned around, her brow furrowed with frustration again, staring hard at the clasp.
There was a brief silence where she watched the clasp gently sway back and forth off its pin. Without a moment more, she quickly gripped her hand around it and made her way out of the room, shutting the door loudly behind her.
From then on, there was no more blind faith in those who did not deserve it.
The time had come for another test.