((Continues on from Wandering:Pembar ))

“Have you lost all sense,” Estarfin said. “We cannot travel there. The land is no more.”

Last night, Estarfin’s conversation, such little conversation the warrior offered, was full of dark tidings. He spoke of how the roads are getting worse and soon no one will be able to travel at all, and then he hinted at ‘utter devastation,' all the while smiling strangely to himself as he sipped his wine.

Calentauriel sought one who had seen the wreckage of Isengard, and who would be willing to tell her of their experience. Eregiel accompanied her sister to ensure that she was not overly bothersome. Those they found who had seen Isengard in its ruined state were either occupied preparing for their return to Edoras or were taking rest before their departure. At last they found upon Éomer, Third Marshall of the Riddermark and, since the death of Prince Théodred, King Théoden's heir.

Some goodbyes felt like they took ongoing tolls. Long after the person was out of sight. Left behind, or gone away on the horizon. Or simply parted ways from. In bad blood, or in the best of circumstances.

Ryheric knew it was more than just a person, or even two people, or three. It was more than fifty.

It was hundreds. What had happened to the people at the Hamlet was a weight for him to carry. The weight went deeper, and further back. Some memories were not yet safe to revisit.

The time had come at last for Eregiel and Calentauriel to present the horses they had tamed to King Théoden. The sisters arranged a meeting when the king had a moment to spare from his preparations to ride to Gondor.

~The Hornburg~

Shooty

((Artwork credit: The masterful Rafel!))