death

Ash had been frequently visiting Mrs. Dorabel Baker ever since dear Owena's death. Though she was unable to do so much recently, as the colder weather brought on a larger amount of illness and injury, causing her to be quite busy. She knew Mrs.

Rough hands clamped on both arms, dragging her toward the door of her infirmary. She struggled violently, but she had already let them get too close. She should have stopped them before they were close enough to get to her. The two men shoved the door open, throwing her to the floor, the younger one sneering down at her, clearly feeling tough for being able to throw a small woman to the ground. The sense of the deep danger she was in shuddered through her body.

A woman dressed in black on a black horse rode into the flower covered meadow. The purple tiny blossoms danced in the breeze of twilight.

The horse came to a stop and the woman dismounted.

The room was fading, darkness surrounding his thoughts. Flashbacks of his family, back in Gondor, they were much younger in these memories, alive even, he could almost touch them. A faint smile came over the old mans face.

His thoughts turned to those in Bree he had met, all of them living life, not a care in the world for Penlard, why would they? He had been gone for weeks, months even. The darkness grew.

Battle raged about Seronaer, the screeches of orcs and the roars of trolls mixed with the battle cries of men and elves and the clatter of steel and wood. It was messy, the ashen ground was turned muddy with blood as the mountain before them spewed yet more foul ash into the air.

Death!

Gæded's heart raced as she stood before the closed gate. It was coming. These men, these soldiers, would fight for their home. So would she.

Death!

She felt slightly afraid, but she did not let it show. She was one of the eorlingas. She had to be brave.

Death!

She looked around her, at the men. Their golden hair glinted in the sunlight and their eyes sparkled with fear, excitement and determination. She felt those feelings too - she was not alone.

Death!

The ground was thick with snow, but it wasn’t cold. Brord was laid out in front of her, just as when Gaeded had sat by him after he’d died. She stoked his mane as she did then too, running her gloved fingers through the strands. She felt the ache of sadness in her, knowing that she’d never see him again. She stood up, the snow crunching under her pointed leather shoes. She stepped back, looking around the where the corpse of the giant that killed her steed. But it wasn’t there.

The pillars of black smoke funneled together into the sky like a cluster of spears jutting into the earth. As Jonn reached the top of the last rocky hill, he saw where those “spears” converged: the small village where he had stayed peacefully for the past week. At the point where the spears of smoke ended, the fires began, flowing out like blood from a deep wound. Grass, straw, wood, and clay were the primary materials used to build the small group of crude huts making up the village. Everything burned or crumbled under the blazing heat.

((At the Willowshade Estate in Belfalas. (In a splintered timeline from anyone who is ignoring the advancement of the game's story). ))

Zagzeroth moved through the halls and up the stairs, upon finding the most recent love of his long life, Ivmin Willowshade of Bree, he frowned slightly the sorrow of what he must now say and do pressing down heavy upon his heart and mind...