Malienna stood silently and sombrely as the dead thief was buried and placed into the ground. She knew that this was indeed the decent and right thing to do, but at the same thing she was filled with a sense of hatred, for these callous thieves who stole horses in the dead of night, who cared nothing for others, hardly anything for their own kin. It was so far away from her own life that she could not even comprehend what it must be to live like that, with fear and hatred, a life of theft and murder. Malienna shuddered inwardly.
Feeling uncomfortable by the grave, she slowly rode over and rode alongside Maikadurion.
“It was good of you to find the trail,” she said to him. “It might have taken us longer, otherwise, and we should have lost more time in the pursuit of the thieves.”
Malienna looked ahead and scanned the horizon, thinking at first that she saw a few black specks away, far ahead, but peering ahead, she couldn’t make out who or what they were. Sighing, she looked back, hoping for the rest of the group to finish with the burial.
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'It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them' ~Frodo
"Life is hard. After all, it kills you." - Katharine Hepburn
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