[Saurreg]

The sun was already setting as the chestnut brown steed trotted towards the banks of the Mirkwood Forest River. It was sweating profusely and its nostrils flared. Thaurbar knew that the horse had reached the threshold of its endurance and could travel no more. Getting off her back, the eldar approached the head of the mare and stroked its forehead whilst whispering comforting praises into her drooped ears. The strain of fatigue had numbed the horse and she was initially unresponsive, but she soon regained her senses and nibbled gently on his fingers, a sign of affection. Thaurbar gave his mount a pat on the rump as the horse made its way to the waters for a well deserved drink.

The elven rider stood facing north and surveyed his surroundings. Towards his left four hours ride away was the Mirkwood forest, abode of the green elves and the seat of their king - Thrandruil, son of Oropher. Just to his right was an abandoned old redoubt, no doubt a relic from the past when free men of the region had to defend their homes from maraudering Easterlings and orcs. However with the establishment of the Kingdom of Rohan and Ecthelion II as steward of Gondor, threats from the East had greatly diminished and the need for such defences was no more. No men walked in these parts anymore for it was too far from any settlements and too close to the green elves, hence a perfect resting place for a rider of Rivendell.

Thaurbar turned towards his horse again and watched it grazed at the grass by the river bank. Like all Rivendellian beasts, she had a longer lifespan than her other counterparts, even those of Rohan. However time has taken its toil and Eastwind was fast approaching her twilight. Thaurbar knew that very soon he would have to bring her back to Imladris where she would spend the remainder of her life roaming free in the green vales until expiration. Just then it occurred to him that the lives of those whom he had sought to protect and secretly guide were also very short. Compared to his immortality, the Atani were simply flowers that blossom at dawn, reaching the height of their grandeur in the midday sun before withering by evening. He had been present when some of his Dunadan friends died and standing by their bedsides, he witnessed them turned glassy eyed and witless before darkness consumed them. And each time they died, Thaurbar felt as if a part of him disappeared as well leaving him empty and bitter.

"Not at all liberated from the cruelty of time are you, Eastwind?"

The mare simply looked at Thaurbar without comprehension as her master approached to lead her away.

"Then again, neither am I."

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: Saurreg ]

[ December 17, 2002: Message edited by: Saurreg ]