The cloud cover of the Misty Mountains devoured the moon overhead, allowing it to show through only in brief, moving glimpses of silver. Xanderian sat high in a frozen tree, her back against the rough wood, Heartbreaker held loosely in her grasp.
Below, a glimpse of motion, a flash of fangs and a fresh willowleaf shaft was nocked and launched, taking the stalking warg in the eye without a whisper. The beast dropped silently to the plush snow, surrounded by four more of it's pack mates, each with an arrow in its eye. In the center of this macabre semi circle was a barefoot elven woman, dark hair tied back as she walked slowly, methodically yet without leaving prints in the frost. The woman's eyes were open and she was smiling, seeming to be strolling a peaceful landscape, unaware of the howling wind or the bitter cold. Calidis was sound asleep, yet confidently walking the world of her dreams here in the foothills of the High Pass.
Another warg caught her scent, and thusly another warg died as Xanderian nocked and fired almost automatically, lost in her own thoughts. Earlier that day, as the large party of friends and companions made its way out of Imladris, along the road leading resolutely to the gates towards the mountains, they had been stopped by the wood elf Vandallan. He was slowly recovering from the grievous wounds he had suffered in the Battle of the Spike, and fondly greeted most of his former comrades. Seeing his close friend Calidis had joined this group, departing Imladris for the first time since the haven had been built by Lord Elrond, his eyes grew cautionary when Calidis noted she was doing so at the encouragement of Xanderian. "It was following her that I suffered these wounds..." he said cryptically, far more coldly then his normal florid demeanor, and looked away from the Huntress. His meaning was clear and Xanderian moved silently away along the road, allowing Vandallan's goodbyes to the others to remain warm and cordial, undisturbed by the frost which choked her heart.
Another warg, another arrow. His icy words told her nothing new, they simply reminded Xanderian of the endless guilt she had carried for weeks now...cursing her own failings and the hurts her friends and allies had suffered due to them. She could not argue, could not deny his pain or grievance. He had indeed nearly died after being led astray by her own mistakes. She had been fooled so many years ago that it called nearly every choice she had made over the last three years into question...questions she asked herself again and again. Can anyone trust in me anymore? Can I trust in myself?
Another warg, another arrow...and here she was, leading a large group on a long road towards Rohan, rich with friends and lovers. Addie and Masin and Anna had joined them just the previous day and while seeing her sister Addie again filled her with enormous joy and relief, the possibility of failing her in this endeavor that was so important to the Rohan lass was just another fear amongst dozens.
That night, in the dwarf built haven they passed the darkness in, the chat was merry and light despite each traveller's own tensions...many old friends happy with one another's company. Wine was passed around and laughter filled the dour dwarven cave. Xanderian finally had drifted into a watchful doze, smiling, nestled in a pile against the cold with Cyndwin, Nethrida, Eduwiges and Rhavanielle but soon woke from a dream she had had often, still vivid in her mind. In Kheledul again, watching Vandallan plummet from his perch yet again...dashing to him, and turning him...she had dreamed it dozens of times and she always found it to be another of her comrades. This time, it was pale haired, loving Eduwiges bleeding out her beautiful young life from a black, hissing wound, staring accusingly at Xanderian as she died...and the morgul blade which had slain her was in Xanderian's own hand, matching the blade that she had taken from the Angmarim and named Pride, the blade that had killed her.
She dropped the blade and woke...and noticed Calidis drifting slowly past Hawke, sleeping nearest the door, and out into the night. She had warned that she may sleepwalk, and so she was doing....and unexpectedly had the sleepless Monk of Osgilliath as a sentry for her wanderings.
Another warg, another arrow and finally, the ringmage made her way back into the Dwarven fortress, still asleep, as Xanderian slipped down from her tree, retrieving her arrows from a dozen dead wargs. Slipping them frugally back into her first quiver, Xanderian silently followed her new friend back out of the storm...suspecting that before this journey was done they would both have many more dreams...
...and the need for every arrow she could carry.
