It had been a warm day in the Breeland, twigs creaked and cracked in the dry wind. These lands had become less pleasant to travel through in the most recent of years. Trolls that became more bold, vegetation that become scarce in certain parts.. a desolate wasteland none too far from stinking marshes with no lack of neek-breeks to sing their buzzing tunes and then there was Cirdamir's companion. They were both of the Elvish bloodline that ran as the stream near the Grey Haven. Him and his friend both were on their way to the Last Homely House for matters that concerned only them. Matters they had no reason to speak of during their journey. They passed through the harsh land and Cirdamir with composure on his features listened attentively to the words of his friend. She had decided to interrupt the desolate silence of these hidden places for some time now.
"Must we really traverse over these old overgrown paths? Underneath the shadow of moaning old trees wanting no else than to slake their thirst? We will arrive days too late at this pace!", she rolled her shoulders forward a little, knowing well that she was being less than patient on purpose.
Cirdamir's lips curled neither down nor upwards, his calming voice passed his cropped lips, "We must not hasten, in fact I believe we left a few days early. Shall we perhaps set up camp once we come near the stagnant waters of the marsh? We could listen to the musical talents of the local wildlife and have one over the fire if big enough."
She shot a glance at his back for a moment, perhaps wondering if he was serious. The clopping of their steed's hooves rang the air for a moment, "That is a pleasure you can indulge in by yourself. I would much rather play a harp and have the company of those with no more than two legs."
Cirdamir didn't reply, they had gone over a patch of dry grass up on top of a hill. Like two silver statues they stood there in the dry summer's breeze. He made slits out of his eyes and preened the distance. "Something wrong?", she asked with a glance over her shoulder.. "I am not certain, but do you not notice a faint... tune on the breeze?" This time she smiled, "Are you that keen on listening to the music of the wildlife?" He didn't reply to her jest and she let some softness fade, "Wait.. was that a drumbeat? I did not know people lived in these parts, let alone enough to make an orchestra." And to their fine senses it seemed as such for it appeared as if in a distance beyond distance their ears caught the beat of a drum, the tune of strung instruments and the clarion of a hunting horn. Interwined in what they would describe as a swelling of their hearts with sorrow without disheartening them.
"There!", Cirdamir uttered downhill and he did not wait for her to follow as they descended from the slope. Both immediately felt something influencing their senses. The colors of the land seemed to brighten, intensify and then both Elves saw him! A man was laying on his back, quiet, but breathing. Blood was on the ground around his shape. There was also another.. they perceived it as a skeletal figure draped in ethereal robes that fluttered in a wind that came from the wrong direction of the breeze, it held a rusty spear in one hand as it looked down on the man from beneath it's wide brimmed hat. The creature leaned down and seemed to ask something, the man coughed. Cirdamir's friend drew out her sword, thinking of danger, "Hold there!! What is the meaning of this?!" Who are you?!" Yet neither the wounded man nor the creature seemed to take hold of their presence, instead it laid a hand on the man. Slowly but surely his face started to turn more pale and his breathing turned more laborious. Cirdamir came down without threat nor in haste, "You! What are you doing?!" He could see the man fading with each other heartbeat and so the Elf stepped in giving a push to the ethereal being. By no means was it there physically and it vanished on the spot only to reappear from behind him, "Watch out behind you!", the she-elf called out while intending to swipe with her weapon!
Neither would react in time as the spirit reached for Cirdamir, but somehow was incapable to touch him.. It did not appear dismayed however and instead decided to stand at a short distance, in reaction to it's failure. Glancing at the both of them and the man which now started to regain some of his consciousness. The she-elf knelt, "He's harmed as if an arrow struck him and he pulled it out without stopping the bleeding. He needs help or will be lost!" Cirdamir nodded while casting a glance at the creature that now stood there, it even tipped it's hat at him until it dissipated like thin smoke. The tune on the wind was gone, the world regained it's natural shades. The man opened his eyes, "Hutin..", he said by manner of introduction. "All is well.", she said, "We'll look after your wounds, try to get some rest." The man nodded in gratitude and she looked up at Cirdamir, "What do you think it was that we have witnessed?" "I do not know for certain.", his eyes looking down at the man, "It looked unpleasant, however it did not.. feel malicious. It seemed more like the slow kiss of death." "Do you think it is gone?", Cirdamir's companion attempted to help Hutin get up. Cirdamir inhaled deeply, "Somehow I believe that it never truly is."
