Previous: And Then There Were Three
She set off as the moon rose, the remains of her little camp picked clean and hid beneath dirt and foliage as habit bade her do. It was not long before she caught sight of Lord Elrond’s final sentry, the one watching the westward road into the Lone Lands, and the sentry caught sight of her.
“Daro,” he said softly, stepping forth to bid her halt.
“Suilad,” she answered him, muscles taut and senses piqued for danger, but through no fault of his. Had these been her forests, she too would have bid a stranger stop, especially one that wore not the garb of her own people. And so she paused, and she waited.
Sinda and Silvan regarded one another in silence a moment, until he finally asked her business and her name, to which she replied. Tersely, perhaps, but thoroughly. His response was the same as the others with whom she had spoken before. Her twin, it seemed, still traveled westward, and it seemed he was not so far ahead of her as she had feared.
It made sense, perhaps. Of the two, she was more accustomed to urgent travel through the wilderness.
Curiosity and duty satisfied for both, the Silvan did not tarry. Crossing the Mitheithel, she made her way swiftly into the Lone Lands.
The emptiness of the land filled her with unease, and more than once her feet unbidden sought to leave the road; for in the Greenwood, Saelindril rarely took established paths, even ones so aged and out of use as this one. To do so invited trouble. But here to leave the road would not ease the dreadful sense of emptiness, the awful lack of life. And so she stayed her instincts, kept to the slightly beaten trail.
She spared a glance above her, seeking glimpse of Súldil. There. A tiny speck far above, backlit by the moon, comforting and unsettling, both. The owl seemed vulnerable without the woodland canopy as cover.
With a sigh she dropped her gaze away to the wastelands that surrounded her. Reminded her feet again to stay upon the trail. Her brother would have used the established path, and it was his way she sought to follow.
Three nights they traveled thus, until at last as waning moon began its slow descent she came upon the city of the Eglain. It was with surprise that she was stopped at the gate by the wizened man, clad in brown, Súldil perched upon his shoulder.
She had never seen him, yet knew him by sight.
“A star shines on the hour of our meeting, Dúrandis,” he greeted her in the elven way, using a name for her she had never heard nor used before, and Súldil fluffed her feathers.
That bird is laughing at me, Saelindril realized.
“A star shines, and may it bring you joy, Aiwendil,” she said aloud, bowed her head, and waited.
