Thorenhad

The night passed quickly for Dru. She managed to catch some sleep...or rather, that thin veil of sleep one has when their ears are searching for the slightest anomaly.

As soon as Nelnardis stirred, she willed herself to her feet and reached for her pack. It was just about dawn, but she searched for a piece of parchment and something to write with. Thendryt was already sitting by the fire when she walked into the main room of the beorning’s house.

“I would like to reconsider,” she found herself saying to Elrohir.

He glanced up at her from the piece of parchment he was writing on, lowering the quill in his hand. Elrohir sat back in the simple wooden chair, waiting for her to speak.

The air was cool and soft. She could feel the breeze finding its way under the fine leather armour, but it was a comforting gust – the kind from a summer’s evening. Nelnardis sat under one of the many birch trees near Thorenhad, her eyes closed.

The sun has almost set behind the Weather Hills, to the west of the Trollshaws, and the third day of the mission was coming to an end. Angelnarth gratefully received a small lit candle from one of the elves around him, which he brought closer to his map, inspecting it thorough.