Thendryt

Chapter fourteen: The Fall

Thendryt couldn't be dead.

There must have been some sort of miracle - an extraordinary possibility that he may have survived the deep wound of a dagger, or the high fall from a mountain side, or the exhaustion of continuous battle both physically and psychologically.

Faorie covers her face with her hand, thinking of Thendryt's passing.

Faorie searches for Thendryt in the Misty Mountains.

Ebrail had been left behind, for their journey had reached heights unsuitable for him to travel. Step by step, Faorie had carefully examined the tracks left behind by Bryn and his men.

Through the white mountains Faorie rushed in search of the man with the black, blood stained armour – Thendryt. His tracks most times had already been blanketed with snow, but under ledges and through ruins the hoof prints of Bovad, his black steed, remained undisturbed.

For many hours Faorie searched. She dared not call to him, for her presence may lead him to disappear as he once did while on the path to Eregion.

Faorie and her steed walked through the falling snow of the mountains, every step crunching the mounds beneath them. The night sky and ice were not the sole cause for the chill atmosphere of the region, for Thendryt's position and duty to Rivendell was soon to meet its end.

Thendryt had proven himself unsuitable for his role as a warrior and protector of the hidden vale; and in this, his reputation as such would no doubt find itself at a farewell. His clasp and cloak would be returned to the Council and his presence in the valley would no longer be required.

Chapter thirteen: Winds of Cold and Ice

“Thendryt!”

The snowy peaks of the Misty Mountains appeared darker, he thought.
“Thendryt.” Lowering his head and slowly turned it towards Faorie, he gave her a dark glare. She shouldn’t be brought into this situation. 

“Thendryt!” Faorie called out.

Thendryt stood beside his black steed, Bovad, staring out at the snowy peaks of the distant Misty Mountains. His armour was tainted black with crimson stains, presumably blood, scattered across his body.

Faorie furrowed her brow, gripping the reigns of her white steed, Ebrail, that stood silently beside her. “Thendryt,” she repeated more quietly.