Taralphiel's post for Eriador and Taralphiel
Taralphiel slumbered restlessly in the branch of a tree, her cheek pressed against the soft fur of the wolf pup Khelek. She had lost count of the nights she had spent just this way, and the increasing disturbance of what she saw while she slept.
Hr dreams lead her through another dark passage, her fingers could feel the moist dank of the rough walls. And in the corner, shown only with a sliver of the moons’ light, a figure sat slumped in the corner. Her hair dangled off his brow in dregs, down over his eyes. He looked in rags, though her skilled eyes could make out those rags had once been regal garments of a soldier, a warrior. His breastplate still shone, though dully. But all other sign of his place were gone, not a sword, nor a shield.
Taralphiel did not need any more detail to discern who this man was. She called out to him, her voice becoming hoarse, though those slumbering beside her could only hear whimpers. She cried out his name, and pleaded with him.
“Eriador, please! I am here! Listen to me!”
The figure looked up, his eyes still veiled, his head moving about, his shoulders stretching back. Even in the muck of his prison, Eriador looked as though he held some hope, though his body would not recognize it. She could hear his laboured breathing as he whispered to himself.
“This dreams…they are so vivid. I wonder what it is she is doing now…”
Eriador lifted his head to the small gap in the tall cell, so the moonlight could light up his face, and Taralphiel could see his familiar, yet now care-worn face.
“I will work my way out of this cell, and back to her, so I am not haunted so….”
Taralphiel jerked her head up from its rest against Khelek, and sighed. She sat up and pressed her palms to her face, shrugging her sore shoulders with effort. Khelek turned a curious glance up at her, and she threw him a weary smile.
“These dreams grow longer, that is all. I shall manage…”
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