The Hills of Evendim RPG

[Lumiel]

When Eswen had saved the young pup, Lumiel watched quietly from where she lay. She had a passing curiosity about it but let it rest until the morning. In the morning, she took a look at the animal and saw its wounds and a look of pity passed over her face. She hated seeing others in pain, even if it was just an animal. Yet it seemed to recover quickly or nearly so and enjoyed the affection of most of the company. Lumiel had to admit, the pup sure did grow on you. She often would wrestle with it when they stopped for break, using only her hand to tussle its fur and gently play with it being careful of its still healing wounds. She laughed as it growled at her and yipped, and she growled back playfully, laughing at its antics.

Now though, it was evening and they were near Fornost and yet still they had seen no sign of anyone, let alone brigands of the sort they were searching for. It was strange, she thought. They couldn't possibly have missed the signs, there were too many of their party who had excellent tracking skills, herself included, to be so easily fooled or deceived. No, there was something more and she didn't like it. Silence and peace were all well and good, but not when waiting for an unknown danger. As they rode, she began thinking. What sort of people were they dealing with? Were they merely desperate bandits? Or maybe an organized group with some darker intent? Or had they all been duped and the truth was something else altogether? She glanced at Falowik. She doubted he would lie, she felt no concern over whether or not what he had told them was the truth, at least from his point of view. The truth is the truth, but the prism of perception more often than not distorted it into colors of the same thing. Yet still. Falowik did not seem the type to cry Wolf. The nagging feeling persisted at the back of her mind where it had taken root. Doubt clouds all, Farin had once told her. There was nothing to do about it at the moment except hope for some light about the matter soon.

As they made camp once more and settled down, the group seemed to quiet also. Each seemed to have their own tasks to take care of, and Lumiel felt somewhat lonely. She sat and ate in silence, the quality of the food not bothering her as she had grown up with it. When they had finished, they sat around the fire and kept close to keep their bodies warm. She observed quietly, and her eyes fell on the hobbits, Anson and Gorby. Gorby seemed to be absorbed in something in front of him, and Anson watched him work. She listened to the words that passed between them, and then Anson left for sleep. Gorby seemed to shudder for an instant and intent on something, though not his drawing.

Standing up, she walked over by Gorby and sat down, staring at the fire, her cheeks slightly flushed from the heat. "It's cold, but it's a nice evening." she commented. Gorby merely seemed to shudder at the reminder of the temperature and Lumiel smiled. "Think of it this way: it's not raining. What's that?" she asked, meaning Gorby's drawing.

"Oh, just a sketch of Falowik. Only there's not much ink left now." he said somewhat wistfully.

"Well, you could probably ask Eswen if she knows how to make some sort of ink or pigment for you to use, she seems very handy when it comes to herbs and the like." She glanced at his sketch. "Anson was right, it is good. You caught his eyes very well. If you don't get the eyes right, the picture never seems quite right. "The eyes are the windows to the soul" as they say I suppose." Gorby thanked the compliment. To continue the conversation, she went on: "Is it what you thought it would be? The journey so far I mean." she asked, her hair shining like tinsel in the firelight.