Forochel

With a rustle of furs and fabric, Wil pushed through the low, sloping door and entered the Forochel igloo where his love lay asleep. Just as he left her hours before, unconscious with her head bound in a bandage. He sank down beside her on the mound of furs and began to finally relax for the night.

Stirring, Merys opened her eyes and turned her head to look beside her. She smiled and reached out a mittened hand to stroke down Wil's hair.

"Oh," Wil mumbled. "You are awake."

Rai'thulu woke, as if he had never slept, it was cold, So so cold, he stood upon a rock, he looked down to see his hand less worn, his banded hair hung down still a Golding blonde, no grey in sight...

Teuvo carefully picked his way down the steep slope of the valley. Fresh powdered snow had been deposited during the night in knee deep drifts which made finding foot holds difficult. Using the shaft of his spear he probed the ground in front, checking for solid ground. On his back he carried a large pack with enough provisions for the next few days while the hunting party was away from the village. Winter had made many of the valleys impassable, deep drifts and biting winds blocked the ancient pathways used by the Lossoth.

Belegos was uncomfortable. For hours and hours he had been riding, and in the worst fashion. He had started his journey from Lorien after having been a guest there for a while, and now slowly, and painfully, made his way step by step to the cold wastes of Forochel.