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[son-of-the-valley-blog]

Tense || Eramdir [OPEN]

With the blizzard passing, Eramdir spent his time getting ready to move on outside. It was still cold, but not bitter. He enjoyed the crisp, cold air as he was breathing in. He sat on the ground, legs folded across one another. His bow was in his lap, strung and ready. In fact, he had everything he needed to move on his person already. He kept his eyes open, looking forward, and he sat entirely still.

A flicker of movement caught his attention and he turned his head to lock on to the area. It was far off into the trees, but as soon as Eramdir was looking directly at it, the area was still again. He took a deep breath, drawing in the scent and life of the forest. It was expected to be slow and sleepy in the winter weather, but the stillness he felt gave him a shiver down his spine.

Something was wrong, but only just so that he had little reason to speak aloud of his concerns. It could be their relative location to Fornost--that was a place of horrors, after all. He stood, smooth and slow, as if he were trying not to scare away a stag. His eyes remained locked on where he'd seen the movement, Nothing, still, and he was starting to wish he were not alone.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

OOC;; OK.

Ok.

Ok.

I'm going to make a comeback here. I really need to. I've been a bad mod and a worse player. Ok.

Ok.

What have I missed?

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

*wanders off muttering and swearing and clenching fingers in the air*

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

*begins to side-eye you but then realizes something and suddenly gets a migraine* ...unmerciful god, the /laundry/ that's gonna have to be done after we get the Dead Moose Brigade washed. What do you bet me that's gonna be my job. Shit...

I have no particular desire to wash men or their clothes. They can continue to bear odor so long as they kindly do it in that direction.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

Oh, you're easily scandalized, too? /Ohh./ You might want to invest in a face-hiding scarf then. Or share Bruín's.

Lady Dwarf, I do not understand what you are getting on about, nor do I wish to wrap myself in grungy garments.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

You know, maybe if you 'supervised' Bruín actually /would/ bathe.

Pardon how you speak, Lady Dwarf!

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

When my arrows are sinking into orcflesh and saving your hide, tell me again I smell of cowardice.

a-shadow-from-the-sands replied to your post: He should bathe.

… me or Bruín?

…both.

/intensely serious eye contact/

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

a-shadow-from-the-sands replied to your post: He should bathe.

… me or Bruín?

...both.

/intensely serious eye contact/

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

He should bathe.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

ooc;; one more ooc post

so uhm...who do I owe?? Wow I'm so behind I'm so sorry please forgive me.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

ooc;; Alright, I am officially back. I'm going to catch up on reading tonight and either get to replies right after that, or right after work tomorrow.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

OOC Update!

I became very sick in the past two days. Enough to put me in the hospital. I'm feeling significantly better now, but I will be without a computer for most of tomorrow through Sunday. Sorry, it came on pretty suddenly.

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

Farnynn's attitude was not at all appreciated, but it actually put Eramdir more at ease to know others were willing to be so casual around him. He gathered wood alongside the other for a time, in silence. Farnynn talked some, which he listened to idly, but only when he noticed the Man reaching up into the trees did he speak.

"Can you not reach?" he asked, as plainly as his voice would allow, but a raise of his eyebrows and faint smirk gave away that he was poking fun. Farnynn may have been taller than him, but the Man stayed on the ground. He loaded what he had onto the saddle again, to free up his hands. Then, with no warning, he ran at a tree, kicked off the trunk, and into the branches.

Climbing was natural for him, and it showed in the way he moved through the limbs, never snagging, never slipping, even with the icicles and frost. He pulled loose some drier pieces of wood, dropping them to the ground below, so Farnynn could gather them. From the branches above, he leaned out, to reply to the comment about a feast.

"It would be difficult to hunt, in this storm, but not impossible. If we take a little extra time, we may be able to return with some rabbits for stew," he called down, as if he had read Farnynn's mind. A few more dead branches later, and Eramdir dropped out of the tree, landing neatly on his feet. He was already working his bow from where he'd slung it over his shoulders, not thinking that Farnynn might disagree to his idea of a short hunt.

“I’m sure you did,” Farnynn said, wide smirk and high raised eyebrows. It was amusing, the nature of elves. Polite as Eramdir was, certainly more than their ponce of a prince, his stubbornness bled through and it was hard not to laugh at it there and again. “Oh you’re welcome. And the tracks will be deeper from the weight.” He turned over his shoulder, his horse nipping along the loose cloth of his cloak. “Stop. Morn’, stop.” Hs switched his hand behind him and the horse snorted, knocking his head at Farnynn’s hip. 

With the horse still mouthing at his hood, Farnynn sighed and looked about them. “That’s not entirely true. There may be branches snapped and fallen in the trees, long dead ones, that the snow and ice haven’t gotten to yet.” He began to walk through the trees, looking through the arms of the trees and through the thick blinds of nettles. The broken branches were large, brambly things that took more reaching to get to.

He collected what wet wood he could, held under one arm, and pulled what dry branches he could from within the hearts of the trees to stock beneath the other arm. A little more than an arm and a half full and he was loading it upon the horse’s saddle again. “For all the hell and discomfort this storm is bringing, if we settle somewhere good for the night, I think we’re all more than deserving of a small feast.” He’d even share his stores of honey if he felt so inclined - but he wanted a rich stew and warm rolls and he wanted to feel full so he could sleep without dreaming through the whole of the night. 

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

Everyone had been doing a generally good job at keeping together in the snow. Whoever had wandered off or gotten lost had quickly been found. Even little Pimpernel, who's pony had strayed, was hunted down by the Dwarf maiden. Even Eramdir, himself, had some trouble at one point, having gone too far to find firewood. And so, having taken it upon himself to be the group's guard, he continuously took head counts, making sure they had all their members.

During one of these counts, he came up short one. Just one, and he had to run through the names to realize who it was. The prince. A brief moment of panic flooded up into his chest, but he pushed it back. There was no time for nerves, he had to find Aldahith. In this unnatural snow, in an unfamiliar land, alone...

Eramdir huffed a curl of frosty breath into the wind. His bow was pried from around his torso and he made sure at least one other knew where he was going. There were some, he gathered, that wouldn't mind if Aldahith was lost to the snow, never to return. But, he felt responsible. Both as a promise to the Lord Elrond, and as a debt to a friend. With one last glance to the group, he set off into the sheet of white.

The trees came out of nowhere. Even with Eramdir's elvish eyes, he hadn't seen the forest line until it was right on him and he was already walking among the trees. The horse tracks he had picked up lead into them, though, which brought a frown to his features. Aldahith hated the forest. Determined still, Eramdir produced his smallest knife and placed it's blade against the nearest tree. Quickly and carefully, he carved his first initial into the bark, whispering in quiet Sindarin, "I am sorry, my friend."

No sooner had the words left his lips than shudder seemed to run through the trees nearest him, as if the wind had picked up in their thinnest branches. Wood groaned, and even over the snow, Eramdir heard what he needed. His intentions had been understood, and they offered him aide. He took off at a run, aided by the slight shelter the woods held from the storm. Every so often, he stopped and carved his mark into another tree, apologizing each time. And, soon enough, a silhouette of a horse and rider came into his sight.

"Aldahith!" he called, too relieved to think that this might not be the prince, but as he got closer, he found he had made the correct assumption. "Aldahith, you have strayed from the course. We must get back."

Horrors from the Books // Aldahith and Eramdir [ CLOSED ]

Very nervously he rode onwards, not realising that it would only get him more lost, fearing for what might find him, if not his friends.  

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

"I know exactly where I am," Eramdir replied stubbornly, resisting the urge to wrinkle his nose at the accusations. He was telling it to himself, too, in hopes of convincing his mind that he wasn't actually lost, just a bit off path. He cleared his throat, arms moving up to block the flying snow. "Thank you for your concern, though. You are correct in saying we would carry more wood this way."

With that, he began piling wood onto the horse's back. Dry wood, at which he gave a side-eyed look to Farnynn for suggesting he'd get anything else. He had been exploring forests and starting fires for centuries before Farnynn was born, and he knew what he was doing. He kept his little arrogant tirade in his head, though, and moved away from the horse to busy himself looking for more wood.

"Anything else will be too wet with snow, by now. We can still gather some, but we will need to dry it over the first fire to make it ready."

When the willowed frame of the elf came through the blusters of the snow, Farnynn rolled back his shoulders. “I,” he drew back, amused, at Eramdir’s tone, “am out keeping watch of the wandering elf to be sure he doesn’t lose himself. Was I a little late in preventing that?” 

The cold was chapping his face, and already he heard the dry crackling in his voice. “I can handle myself in a blizzard but a pair is better than a lone expedition. And we can carry more wood on the beast’s back.” He slid down from the saddle and the horse tossed his head, flinging a good bit of snow at Eramdir and Farnynn alike. The man, however, hissed and whinged up like a child at the onslaught of chill to the nape of his neck.

He hissed through his teeth, “Dry wood. Right?

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

Some elves would swear up and down that the wind had its own voice. When Eramdir heard his name on the snow, he thought, just for a brief moment, that perhaps they were right. But, as the wind hit his face, he recognized the voice to belong to Farnynn, one of the Men of their group. Had the man followed him?

Eramdir turned his head towards the voice and followed it, jogging across the snow in hopes that Farnynn was still with the group, and they weren't as lost as he had originally thought. Unfortunately, through the snow, he could only see the sight of one horse and ride, not the entire travel group. Regardless, he continued forward, meeting up with Farnynn. With worried eyebrows, he looked up to the Man.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked quickly, almost accusingly, but with obvious concern. He looked past the horse, to a sheet of white, and behind himself, to the same white. "You could have gotten lost, out here on your own. It is dangerous!"

Of course, he wouldn't be admitting that he had gotten himself lost. He already had enough embarrassment for one adventure, and they had barely begun.

Farnynn looked after the elf from where he had hurried off. “He’ll go and get himself lost in this weather.” Nudging the heel of his boot at Herja’s side, he grunted. “I’ll go with the elf to find firewood. You keep everyone together, mother bear.” There was the looseness of a smirk on his lips before he turned away from her and urged his horse off the road. 

Far sight was not something the weather was granting and he could see only a few meters before him, if that, until the washes of snow swallowed up around him. Eramdir’s footprints were disappearing fast, and Morntauk wasn’t eager to go running when he could barely see. 

The horse gave a bray and Farnynn kicked his heels harder. “Come on, now.” The tree line came to view and as they went through, Farnynn clutching at the thick of Morntauk’s neck and steering with tight fists full of mane, the deluge of snow petered into a softer fall, stoppered by the thick of the evergreens. 

“Eramdir! Where’d you go skipping off to?” The last he said beneath his breath. Farnynn scanned the lines beneath the trees, squinting and guiding his horse slow. 

[son-of-the-valley-blog]

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