The Misty Mountains were growing steadily closer. Anson woke to Andunériel shaking him gently, and flushed to realize that he had been asleep at all. "We'll have to begin crossing at first light," he said dismally. The Elf smiled comfortingly at him.
"We can camp tonight," she said. "Regain your strength. You'll need it for the cross."
She dismounted and helped him down, then called out to the others that they would camp for the night. Several of the travellers looked very weary, and Anson's vision was blurred from exhaustion. He tried to help build the fire, but Marsilion and Tinüsel refused to let him carry anything. In a sour temper, he sat down on his bedroll.
The dark blue sky was dotted with stars, and for a moment Anson was with Violet, counting out the constellations. Her raven hair was spread out on the ground, and her keen eyes picking out the constellations almost faster than Anson could name them.
Anson sighed heavily and buried his face in his blankets. The mountains would take his family off of his mind.
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"Oh, my god! I care so little, I almost passed out!" --Dr. Cox, "Scrubs"
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