It was a day that was to be like the one before it, and the one after it, or at least that is what Gelvira had foreseen. But this could not be any further from the truth, yet she remained blissfully unaware of such as she whittled away at wood on the doorstop of her hut. Alaric and Heva bathed in the sun, that seemed to be scorching on this particular day, and all was rather peacefully and quiet, aside from the occasional panting that was emitted from the hounds.
Her time in Chetwood, and thus Bree-land, had been a turbulent experience that she did not anticipate when she made the decision to take the journey from the Vales. It was not that it was not enjoyable, as of course it had been, especially the time she had spent with Faron. It was not without its complications, that were mainly because of events that occurred before Gelvira reunited with her Clan, yet she experienced the aftermath of what these events had caused. Faron left, and then returned, and then left once more. Gelvira’s emotions had been pulled, strained, and torn throughout the entire process, which made her question her presence, but even she could not deny the feeling she got when she spent time with her most treasured love. And so, without any hesitation or doubt, Gelvira sought to exist for as long as she was able to.
As well as Snow-Hair, she had built a relationship with other members of the Clan that she cherished beyond measure. Ljota and Hildegund were a couple that she adored and went to on many occasions for a reasonable thought, or a well-deserving cry. Trust was not a concept that came easy for Gelvira, but even she could admit that she trusted them both without question, and so it is unsurprising that she sees them both to be her best companions.
The rest of the Clan, Heriwulf and Aelfrida, for whom she travelled with, were all individuals that she held in the highest regard. Although each of their relationships may have been tested, through external reasonings or not, but there was bond that united them all with some common ground. Each and every one of the original Woodmen had left their homes, left all that they knew, as one to explore a land that was to be declared much safer for them to build their livelihoods. Such a bond is not experienced, or felt, by many, and so it is one that Gelvira can also admire.
Her thoughts of her life were interrupted, as in the near distance, were three familiar figures that came into sight. Maugrim, Akela, and young Scorn, whom all made their way toward Gelvira’s hut. Faron and Gelvira had since gone their separate ways, for which had been challenging all on its own, so she was surprised to see them any close to her abode. Of course, without question, her gaze moved around so ecstatically, as she was in search for their Master, but she was nowhere to be seen. In the pit of her stomach, Gelvira knew something was amiss, as it was unlike the wolves to leave Faron’s side. She greeted them all as warmly as she always would, but she continued to look, as she now yearned to see Faron run toward them. She did not, but she did notice a pouch that was attached to one of the wolf’s side, and it was then she came across a note.
It was now a day that was not like the one before it and the days that came after it were never going to be the same. The parchment slipped through her fingers, for which began to shake erratically, as the lack of Faron’s presence was now explained, as she was a being who no longer walked the wandering lands of Middle Earth. For some time, Gelvira’s existence was constantly in question, as she had held on for so long for a woman that was no longer with her. No-one would ever be able to experience her irritating tendencies, but her love, that was so uncomplicated and pure. It was then decided that Gelvira could no longer remain in the hut that they both use to share, the place they came together, and the Clan that brought them together.
