Notice: With the Laurelin server shutting down, our website will soon reflect the Meriadoc name. You can still use the usual URL, or visit us at https://meriadocarchives.org/
Although it has been several days since my utter humiliation and likely end to whatever it was that I shared with Seaver. I cannot get the look on his face out of my mind, I shudder each and every time I picture it, like a hammer blow to the chest. As much as I had thrown myself back into everything that must go on as normal, my thoughts have been consumed with it and continuously playing out a different outcome, one where I had stilled my tongue instead and kept my heart in check.
OOC: The artist is by Taala's daughter. She is very freaking talented and has caught Hyrien perfectly! I suggest you go check her out! ((http://jinxdoodles.tumblr.com/)) - warning adult content, no minors.
Taala sat upon her bed thumbing through the pages of Hardoleth’s journal. She had read her father’s journal many times over, feeling blessed to have it, for it had taught her so much about the man. He had written his innermost thoughts there; surely the truth would have been recorded in those pages?
Just up the slope, the bandits' encampment could just about be made out through the gap in the trees. Firelight reflected off the higher ruins and the occasional muffled laugh or curse could be heard. The night was still otherwise, save for the lapping of water and the occasional hoot of an owl heard overhead on silent wings.
The chronicle will follow Newell's way into the captaincy after Hyrien left for Gondor. It will follow him from the day of the gathering that let the members know, through the scheming, plotting and promising to the eventual moot.
It was well past noon, going on the evening when the last of the available summoned had arrived. Only some had come. Those who had, had just happened to be near enough for the riders to find. Like as not, some of them would be coming drunk, but Newell kept an eye on all who came and noted what their eyes fell on when entering and who they talked to. As the people gathered in the main hall of the Dawnhall, Newell stood near the back, leaning on one of the pillars as he kept an eye on who were there, or even more interesting, those who were not.
Hyrien stirred slowly from her sleep, twitching and turning from an already set nightmare that had recently become all too familiar in the dark. She turned, arm stretched to grasp what was next to her, tugging at sheets that was once occupied by warmth and something familiar. Now all that remained was the cold air of the untouched part of her bed.
She sighed deeply, laying once more upon her back and stared up to the celling. Blinking a few times as she adjusted to the darkness and the shadows danced round the room from the embers of an already extinguishing fire.