[piosenniel]

Mithalwen's post - Erenor: journey toward Mithlond


Angore thought and gave a characteristically laconic response. "Yes but not a good one. We have less than two weeks rations remaining and short rations at that - and I would expect the journey to take mortals at least that time on foot in fair weather". And and everyone is already hungry thought Erenor, and tired and so cold.

Nevertheless the party trudged on day after day. They were grateful for the light of the sun each morning even though it gave no light. The pitiful remnant of the proud citizenry of Fornost cooperated with each other but spoke little, even though their situation equalized all, regardless of race or rank. They huddled in to as few a number of tents as would house them at night to save exertion both of carrying them and setting them up.

Erenor had often found snow beautiful when seen from her window at Rivendell - it was far less appealing now although there were moments when a shaft of light created such sparkling loveliness that she could forget their plight for a moment.

The ice had more sinister creations. They found the body of the missing councillor Mitharan caught like a bird in a thicket at the base of a steep slope. He was like a twisted star glittering with ice - a strange mockery of a jewel. Though they did their best to dispose his body in a more seemly fashion it bore little relation to a decent funeral.

Erenor saw little of her previous companions. The tension had eased with Angore, there was a tacit understanding to concentrate on getting to safety. He was still her guard but as the strongest and most experienced in the ways of the wild among them, his skills learnt through the long centuries of errantry were vital to all. He and the hardened soldier, Belegorn, were in close counsel with the prince Aranarth as to their path and actions, but at other times he served as the rearguard of the group and though his mind was yet closed to her she was aware of his gaze resting on her as her scanned the horizons and it comforted her.

Bethiril spoke seldom. She was absorbed in her own thoughts and whatever strange destiny she had fortold for herself. Erenor had never enjoyed the best relationship with her - she had not disliked her but she had failed to understand her. Now her viewpoint had shifted but it seemed too late. Bethiril had taken on her remoteness as Erenor had developed Bethiril's abhorrance of violence.

Faerim... Faerim her faithful hound, her kindred spirit and whose devotion had inspired so much amusement was also preoccupied. His youth gave him strength and he was of the few that had the energy to hunt for wood or food. Other time he spent mainly with his mother. Lissi had reserves of spirit few could equal but death had claimed one son and in the time of that bereavement she had been forsaken by her husband in the name of duty. At least in Faerim she had a son to be proud of. Although when the opportunity for adventure arose, he had been eager to take it, Erenor knew his first priority had ever been his family.

Then there was that other protege of Rosgollo - the child Gilly. Despite the conditions the child seemed cheerful and remarkably healthy. Perhaps his name had won him the protection of the lady Elbereth. Now they were largely horseless - the poor beasts perished gradually through starvation and accident in the ice and snow - Erenor took it upon herself to carry the child when his short but sturdy legs could not cope with the snow. Renedwen was already burdened with her own infant son, Derendur. She had seemed suspicious at first of the elf lady, who for so long had seemed to place herself above such mundane domestic concerns as the care of small children, thinking perhaps Erenor sought to reclaim the child rescued by her own kind. It had not helped that Erenor had soon asked if she would keep the child when they reached safety. Renedwen who was at least in terms of the Dunedain as noble as Erenor was in those of the Noldor could be just as haughty if she chose, had responded that her son had lost a father and she would not separate him from the brother he had found. Misunderstandings resolved, and understanding if not yet friendship developed between the two ladies who carried swords as well as children.

Nevertheless it was Gilly the blessed and beloved who was Erenor's bane. Little used to children of any kind she did not watch him as constantly as mother does by instinct, and the little boy toddled unheeded to the brink of a icy stream deep from meltwater that flowed down from the mountains this far south. Alerted the elf had leapt and while she was able to save the child from the fall she had taken it herself. Although uninjured she was soaked in the stream’s frigid water.

Over two weeks into their journey, they had come almost to the end of their supplies, eked out by cutting quantities and supplemented with what little they could scavenge (enough for a lone traveller but not a party of their size), but more deadly to the elf now than starvation was the cold.

Angore had rushed to his mistress's side cursing himself that again she had come to harm when he had been away ignoring the fact that there was little he could have done. He wrapped his cloak about them both and held her tight as if by so doing he could hold warmth and life in her frozen body. Only now as she was dying did he have the same realisation that she had undergone weeks before. "Don't leave me, my lady” he murmured, her hair damp against his face. She had not the strength to speak bud rested her head against his chest. His reserve was broken at last and for the first time he opened his mind to her hoping to keep her attention, and awake.

Erenor was aware of little the wind blowing outside the tent and the comforting sound of Angore's heartbeat. She was beyond cold now and lying safe in her beloved's arms it would be so easy to drift into sleep. She would just close her eyes a little while, just rest til the storm abate and they could go on... her mind filled with images Angore, trolls, a woman like enough to be his close kindred. Then the tent opened and she saw Gaeredhel - or was it Rosgollo enter? I must be dead she thought as she yielded to sleep....