The passage of time is a curious thing, it can stretch or shorten so indefinitely that it may just as well disappear completely. In the farthest North the days and nights bear an eternal likeness to one another, the challenges they pose to the sturdy peoples who make a life here never changing and yet and yet they live in peace with their bearings. And so at last did one called Tuilinneth. With the count of time set aside she let these days wash over her like cleansing waters, her wings tucked underneath a thick fur coat, letting all thought rest, all feelings sleep, all memory stowed in an envelope of the mind to not be opened until these northern lights may grant her guidance, understanding and genuine rest.
And when the morning came, a morning like every other, when her lone Kinsman bade her farewell to follow the call of his chief to reclaim the kingdom that lay in waiting for centuries gone by – she was ready. Ready to let him go fulfill his duty, his oath, ready to open the envelope and let her steps be guided by the happenings of her past years, the lessons harshly learned. By the fireside she sits one last eve and scribes names onto a piece of parchment, her belongings gathered, the thick furred cattle in the freezing night calling to their own as they have always done.
First there were the names of her earliest days. The names of the woods and lands they toiled, of a good simple hunting life. And his name too, though it has lost its raw power over her, wherever he may have fled to. Only grief remains.
Then there were the names of her Kin, those that called her father brother ere he went away to join the cause of claiming lands long lost to darkness, those that taught her the ways of the wandering waiting people. Her mentors, guides and friends. Loved ones. Sadness and a longing yet to be defined.
The names of those in fellowship arise with the smoke and embers of the fire, those that chose their fate to stand against injustice, those that hailed from everywhere and disappeared into all corners of the known lands. How many of them still breathed? Where had their roads taken them? Regret and worry linger even in the forever cold.
Tuilinneth’ hands pass over the clothed likeness of a sparrow etched into her skin. It was looking for him, the wild one, Pren, that their company on her urging insistence was making its way towards the dark lands her father had passed many years earlier, the lands that divided their ranks, scattered them, left them each alone and in doubt of everything. The lands that took her last resolve as they had taken her father. Again it had been her Kin in blood that took her in, battered, barely of sound mind, somehow bereft of memory how she arrived at the lake, the ancient city, kind wardens that had sent her here to learn and heal. And so she did. The woman known as many names had shed her skin in the lands of snow and ice, grew taller on the inside holding close and dear the memory of years lost to darkness, sorrow and the undying will to hope for lighter days.
Yes duty was calling, her blood an oath to put aside her own grief. It was time to travel south. To find Nethdir, Atharann, Tualph, Goatbeard, Arthasdir… to ask their forgiveness and the privilege to truly rejoin once more their cause that surely was calling them as it had called her Kinsman and her here. To lend what little strength she could offer, her heart wished to lend it standing with them. For the names forever buried in the woods, for her people her Chieftain and Captains, for her fellow brother and sisters in arms in Fiontann’s Company, that would stay and protect the lands they would have to leave behind, not for duty but because they strove to stand against all things truly evil. Each of them had a part to play in things that concerned kings and gods, demons and temptations, light and darkness. And hers lay with the fate of her people. Until the darkness in the East would be bested.
Uialgil, the steed Tuilinneth had earned for her service in Evendim bore her swiftly across the northwestern lands towards the last bridge. The sight of the roads, though on first glance, seemed little changed uneased her. To those with the eyes to see the void her fellow wardens had left behind was irrefutable already, though she rode behind them a mere few weeks. She could find no word or message from any of her Kin in the Breelands, so it had to be assumed they were heading for the hidden Vale to gather. Worry crossed Tuilinneth heart as she passed into the wilderness of the Shaws. Never had she travelled alone into these lands, nor in times as dark and foreboding as these, never yet had she set foot in the Vale itself. How would she find it, with little more than recollections of direction, would the fair kind let her enter, lead her astray? She could not wear the clothing of her Kin stowed away in her saddlebag, had not yet earned the right to do so again. Who here would know her name her face? So thought Tuilinneth as she lead her steed across the slopes ascending furthermore into the wild towards a call from the distant brush and face of stone in the fair Sindarin tongue:
“Halt thee! Who passeth here in our wilds? How dost thou know this path?”
It begins once more, Tuilinneth thought, unseating from her steed and leading him cautiously by his reigns towards the voices. “May the light shine on your roads friend….”
