Blissful tranquility



The chill had set in even with as close as he sat to the fire. The tattered remnants of his cloak were barely enough to cover his upper body. He could no longer hear the Silvan, The Little Light. His face seemed worried, as usual. For a time, his mind had returned to him and his thoughts roamed to the others. The Currier, His Brother and even remembered laying eyes upon the village.

They had ambushed him and pressed him eastwards, closer to the forest and farther away from Her. HIs blade broken andh is armor rent, he had few choices but to retreat to the places he considered home... Though, usually the ones he inhabited were far less... Inhabited by things of the dark.

 

He could feel the sickness taking its toll. His cheeks deep and sullen, his body weak and withered. His hair which was now shoulder length was matted, dirtied and bedraggled. His fingernails had grown to the point of breaking, chipping and splintering, his fingers almost looked like that of a wight. His eyes, though had lost much of their luster and life still held onto their pale blue hue, albeit just a little brighter. 

 

Nothing grew in this place, nothing dared to take root in this place. This den of evil... Where cold stone was hewn by men with evil hands and mailce within their hearts. The ruins reaked of hopelessness and dispair. This is the place where he would make his last stand, the dying star before it twinkled its last. 

 

So be it. 

 

As Baralinion looked towards the horizon, a smile softly creased across his face. The stars in the sky had finally retired as the sun peaked across the crests of the mountains. The sliver of hope that made its way into his heart forced a pleased huff from his lungs.

 

Night had ended, and the Dawn now rises.