![cloaked in silence reunion cloaked in silence reunion](http://fowlerclassof62.weebly.com/uploads/7/4/1/4/7414112/img-8507_orig.jpg)
“It should be a simple and straightforward journey to the forest’s edge and back. “It will be a good teaching experience for you,” his father, Thranduil, had said when he had told Legolas that he would be leading the company. Seven days ago his father had sent him and two squads of the kingdom’s finest archers and spearmen to meet the envoy from Rivendell at the forest’s edge. Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Eryn Galen, was the leader of the company of Elves trekking through the forest’s trees. “If you are truly worried, however, perhaps you should go speak with Legolas.” Then he looked back at his brother, riding expectantly at his side. It feels as if we are being watched.”Įlladan glanced to either side of the path, searching the undergrowth and amid the boughs of the trees. “It feels like we are being watched,” he said, the realization coming to him even as the words left his mouth. They rode on in silence for a few moments, before Elrohir broke it again, saying, “I don’t know what it is, but something feels wrong.”Įlrohir shook his head. Then, “Perhaps the silence is simply grating on my nerves.” Was he reading too much into the silence of the forest-silence that was surely begat by the rain of the morning, and of the rain promised for the afternoon?
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“Amiss in what way?” he asked.Įlorhir shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. As it was, Elrohir surprised even himself when he said, “Does something feel.amiss to you, brother?”Įlladan’s eyebrow lowered and he frowned. They had been riding in comfortable silence ever since breaking camp that morning-a comfortable silence that was laden down with the lingering afterimage of the rain that had fallen an hour after they had embarked on the road, and was loath to be broken. Elladan glanced over at him, one eyebrow lifting in silent question and surprise. His dark hair was gathered in a loose braid down his back.Įlrohir kneed his gelding forward into a trot, drawing abreast of Elladan in a few seconds. A dagger and a purse hung on the belt slung above his hips. He wore a blue tunic and a leather jerkin, brown pants and knee-high riding boots. Their craggy peaks, infrequently visible through the foliage, were shrouded with the low-hung clouds, and were dark beneath the promised storm.Įlladan, Elrohir’s twin brother, identical to him in every way but personality, rode just ahead of him, bow and quiver slung on his back over his cloak. The path wound between the trees, zigging and zagging back and forth amid the huge trunks, leading ever upward toward the line of mountains marching resolute in the distance ahead. It is beautiful, Elrohir Elrondion thought, casting his gaze back and forth across the path that he and the line of horsemen were following.
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Everything was painted with hyper-realistic edges and vibrant colors beneath the coiling mists, the early morning’s rain turning the world watercolor. Leaves glittered a deep, bright green, and the ferns and the stiffly flowering underbrush that thrived in the shadows of the great trees gleamed in the sullen light. The fourteenth day of the fifth month, year 1050, Third Age.Įryn Galen was grey and silent, trees and undergrowth cast in silver mist and the skies hung heavy with stormy clouds.