Journey

Ealendil is overjoyed, the journey that she had wanted, dreamed of, needed, to undertake to Lothlórien is no longer just that, a dream. All the talks and plans she and Evlealin had had and made through the days of last autumn, and which had had to be laid to rest, are finally no longer just that, talks and plans.

Taraborn’s fingers twitched on the hilt of the sword strapped to Thunder’s saddle, his eyes scanned the mountains around them, and his ears were pinned back for any sudden noises. The Misty Mountains were dangerous, and he knew it.

The sun filtered through the leafy canopy above their heads, leaving the ground dappled and the world a slight orange hue after the colour of the autumn foliage. The forest was quiet, the only sounds the clip clopping of the horses on the road and the creaks of the cart rolling along with them.

A cool autumn sun was hanging low in the sky, a deep orange orb on a backdrop of purples and dark blues. Taraborn sat looking out at the red and pink clouds near the horizon, admiring them for a moment before his gaze returned to the road. Nothing moved, this road was barren for the most part. Occasional merchants traversed the land, but they were not many and it was possible to travel for weeks without seeing anyone else.