Finėwen sighed as she rode atop her horse, which seemed to be getting nervous and tenser. She patted her on the side and whispered something in elvish she always heard the elves in Rivendell say to their horses when they tensed up. Finėwen knew little elvish herself, but could interpretate it when spoken. The horse calmed down a bit.
Finėwen watched the others. She was somewhere in the middle of the group, not really bothering to listen out for things, but still paid attention, just the same. Finėwen was grasping at the hilt of her sword with one hand and grasping the reins with the other: tension seemed thick in the air. The only sound Finėwen could hear was the footsteps of her own horse on the rocky path.
Not knowing what to think or do, Finėwen just rode without speaking. It seemed as if it would be a quiet journey: the only thing audible to Finėwen being her own horse's hooves hitting against the ground, echoing with every step.
<font size=1 color=339966>[ 6:47 PM January 29, 2004: Message edited by: Alatariel Telemnar ]
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-Ever wonder whats beyond those trees?
-More trees.
'Poor ye. Ye're tied to someone who's been photographed trying to shave their hand... My condolences.'
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