Island of Sorrow RPG

[Child of the 7th Age]

Lindir knelt beside the fire and, retrieving a long stick from the ground, poked impatiently at the egg of a sea bird he had found earlier that morning, which now sat roasting on the edge of the coals. Rolling the egg out from the fire, he reached down to pick it up, burning the tips of two fingers while muttering to himself. The Elf was finding it difficult to concentrate on breakfast or anything else he should be doing when snatches of painful conversation and precarious memories surrounded him and threatened to overwhelm them all.

Glancing directly at Tasa, Lindir shook his head and sighed, choosing his words with care. The forced gruffness of his voice did little to mask the evident discomfort he was feeling upon hearing so much talk of the past. "Enough of this. Tasa, your words ring true. But what can we gain by sitting here and talking? The sun is up and we have finished our morning meal. Surely it is time to set words behind. Let us lie the voices and ghosts to rest, for once and all."

With that, Lindir went over to pick up his gear and heave it upon his shoulders, calling out to Malris, "Is it not time to be on our way? Last night, you could not wait. Let us make our way to the high hill that we may finish our errand before night comes, for I would not wish to be in that place when shadows fall. Too much blood was spilled there."

[Firefoot]

Lómwë sat at the fire with a quiet detachment from the group, absently sipping the tea that Orëmir had made. He watched the others passively, only half-listening to the conversations going on. He was not, however, so deep in thought as he had been the previous night; rather, his thoughts seemed to drift aimlessly from one thing to another. It was something about this place. It was affecting all of them, he could see; not, perhaps, as profoundly – or perhaps visibly was the better word – as Malris, but affected nonetheless. He had gotten little rest during the night and had seen how this place and its memories affected even the dreams of his comrades. And when he had finally drifted off to sleep, his own dreams had made sleep little more restful than waking. Not that they had been definitive dreams – more of images, or sensations, of areas he dared not go in waking. No, the night had not been restful.

Presently, he stirred restlessly on his log. He desired that they should do what they came for and be done with it. No more of this sitting around a fire and dwelling upon it. Tuning in once more to the others, he realized that Lindir was stating very much the same opinion.

Standing, he seconded Lindir’s thoughts. “Yes, let us go now. I think we have found what little refreshment that we may in this early morning, and I grow tired of waiting. The time has come, and putting off the job does not make it easier.”

Shouldering his pack, Lómwë faced the high fortress of Himring. Little love do I bear the place, yet ever my heart draws me back. Yet I wonder what my heart bids me seek there…

[Anguirel]

Malris seemed much calmed by his uninterrupted night's sleep, though he reacted to being left to it with some chagrin.

"At least you let me see the dawn, I suppose. Look at it..."

All six Elves were at last united in what their kind excelled at; appreciation of overpowering beauty, that stirs the depths of the soul. Malris saw that Lindir and Lomwe were moved by this spectacle even as he had been by Maglor's voice; but he would not criticise them for it. He turned instead to Tasa.

"A thousand times I would forgive you, of course, if you had committed any crime. You brought me back to a kind of humility. I stand in your debt...but if we hear the song again...in all probability we will not, but if we do...all of you, pay it all your attention, and do not be quick to scorn it, if you find it in your hearts..."

Malris got to his feet, and began to clamber onto the lower, tumbled down wall which Oremir had explored that night.

"Good masonry, the best in the world, for the Naugrim helped us lay it. I remember their King, Azaghal...I seem to recall you knew him best of us, Lindir? But in any case, you are all right. It is time to climb. It will require all the strength and prowess in you; grip the footholds, and keep the bright banners of yesterage in your mind, and we shall conquer all the ridges, cliffs and scree. To Himring's towers we go this morn...and in the eve we will stand in Maedhros' courtyard."

Malris began the long, steep journey, the others quickly following; and though the ascent was still treacherous, in the light of beauteous Arien paths could be devined, and the fell wills that had been set against Malris on the previous night did not yet dare to make themselves felt; though the Dragonhelm sorely tempted them.