Xandilif

Part 1

Eduwiges of Faldham listened to the grunts and clanging of men at battle. The shield-maiden smelled sweat, leather, grimy carpet and shame as it wafted across the giant room being used as a training hall in Minas Tirith. Eduwiges was amazed. In her eyes, a place to train was outside a fort on the plains of the Norcroft or under the trees of Imladris and flets of the Golden Wood; not in this huge palace hall with giant chandeliers and dangling tapestries.

The moon was just rising over the Isla of Tol Lochul as Finchley stalked her prey, moving soundlessly, barely breathing. Her small fists were tight with concentration as she moved, step by step, closer to her quarry. Everything depending upon her being able to approach without alerting resistance. Finally, she saw her moment as a cloud passed in front of the bright moon, and Finchley slowly stepped up behind Xandilif and peered over her shoulder. "... Whatcha doin', Lif?"

I continue to linger in Bree as my initial panic concerning Xanir has abated into a quiet anxiety, gnawing at me in ways that I cannot explain or dismiss. He has continued to ignore the summons Xandilif sent him...but because he does not wish to respond or because he cannot remains to be seen.