It took some time for Miriel to register this. Her eyes shut as their horses rode onwards and she delved into her memories.
—-
She was back there. Back then. Back where it all began. Where all the pain had started. She was only nine when it had happened.
The first time she transformed.
The rage had left her and it was he who ripped her out of the carcass.
”You are safe, child. He can’t hurt you anymore,” He had said to her.
She remembered his face, his smile, the warmth he offered. So different from her father. Her father....
His body was crushed on the floor. Her mother’s corpse was unrecognizable. It had not been him. Master Sauron hadn’t done it. She had.
The little ginger girl clutched onto the big Maia and held tight to his chest, breathing heavily as she weeped. She had just been a child. They all had been.
Sauron had walked down the dissipating Giant body with her as the rains pitter pattered around the destroyed village. The bodies were everywhere. So many bodies. Families. Couples. Children. All dead. Everyone except her.
Master Sauron had said she was a, ”Successful student,”, that she was ”Special.” That had been until Aranel and Laurelos’ true powers had been uncovered. When it all went downhill. When they were put into the deep slumber that had held them since the War began. It was so long ago but felt like it could’ve been yesterday. She had cried so much as a child. Devoted her life to him. Served as a loyal pupil. No more crying. Time for her to take it back.
—-
Her eyes opened.
“Good. Thank you for being so upfront about your feelings. Mine are similar. We’ll talk more about it later, Ha’zi. Let’s just enjoy the ride and talk of the rather intriguing condition that we’ve somehow not run into trouble yet.” She said to Ha’zi, smiling. She knew what she was doing would be heavily frowned upon, not merely by some pathetic society of men, but by her Master. But, she didn’t care anymore. It was time to live. He had promised her freedom and she would take it, promise or not.
The journey continued without issue. Daugo had noticed that Karstir, the elf, had been glancing at him a couple times. She was behind them in the vanguard-unit of elves. There were others with her like Harros and Turmir. Old drinking partners.
Dimitri found that many of Lord Celeborn’s retinue enjoyed his songs. Even Lord Celeborn himself began to sing, chanting the Lay of Gil-Galad.
“Gil-galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.”
Thoruk found, as per usual, the elves to be distasteful. Being the xenophobic dwarf he was.
Iver and Sigeric couldn’t pay much attention as they discussed their familial issue with one another.
Cardiloc had definitely seen Ha’zi and Miriel talking. Though, what about was unclear from all the noise and other conversations.
Marco cheerily sung along and was the closest to Daugo from there on. He casually discussed the little things in life. From how he thought one of those elves had farted to the awkward taste of Crocolion meat being similar to that of the chicken served at Merethrond.
Elladan and Elrohir discussed battle tactics with Zaro before joining the chorus.
It had been another three hours of grueling, torso-pounding, horse riding before Celeborn halted the column. The outriders and Glorfindel had located a suitable cleared area to establish a camp for the night. It was one of the old Ithilien Ranger clearings.
After near an hour’s work of setting up the camp, knocking in tent work and cutting away at the overgrown shrubbery, they were done. Multiple fires were being started across the camp. There was a clear sectional divide between the majority group of Gondorians and the elves. The shifters were given a location nearest the back of the camp, furthest from the road. It was between Lord Celeborn’s massive tent and the Vanguard’s campsite. Seven tents were set up for each of the individual shifters, two to their friends and one empty which was originally intended for Grimnir. Each of them had elves help them but they had to put their backs into it too. Lazy bastards like Marco, Iver and Daugo were struggling to wring their own ones together.
Their own specific fire was being started by Elladan and Elrohir who appeared to be cooking for the night. Glorfindel was no where to be seen, perhaps in his own tent next to Lord Celeborn’s. Celeborn on the other hand was overseeing the work and coordinating plans with Crandil.
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————-
”So, how’s the training been?” Marion said, appearing out of thin air next to Pyrus, nearly making the Maia jump.
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