Current mood:

exhausted

At the River Entwash
It seems as if I can not make it to Mirkwood nearly fast enough. I have ridden so much that my horse has grown exhausted and listless. With my constant fret and the growing pain in my body, I decided to dismount the horse and send him on his way. There was no point in the both of us suffering, I say. The pain has grown in my body… Speaking with Aragorn a few days ago, I remember what I said:

I feel her pain... Damn it all, every pinch, every stab of pain I feel in my heart the minute she is harmed.... She is dying, Aragorn and I am dying with her...

May the truth be known to everyone after this about us. Now I do not even care what happens, what anyone things. All I wish is that she return to me, love me as much as I do her, so that we can raise our child together, live our life without this constant pain and suffering.

Without interference.

Now, I sit near the Entwash, listening to the trees, looking into the river. It’s water is soothing to me and despite the fact that my body is weak and weary from worry and sadness, I can not afford to keep my eyes closed.

Should I travel to Lorien and throw myself at the feet of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, begging for forgiveness for stealing away their daughter and putting her in danger or should I keep going to Mirkwood. By now, they have probably already reached the borders, Haldir especially.

My father has launched a war against his own people… Something about it just doesn’t seem right. As crazy and domineering as Thranduil has been all these years, he never would have done something so reckless and stupid. Not to his own people… There is something else at work here, I fear, something bigger than my heart has room to tell, but for the time being, my goal is to free my wife and bring her home for good…

He looks at the mountains in the distance and the long trail of river stretching North, past Lorien, to Mirkwood

Damn it all…

I should have taken the more perilous route… At least it is shorter.


(OOC Holy Dingo Shit, what has happened to my writing… I blame my school system. It’s sucked the creativity right out of me… Someone inspire me, for God’s sake. Vorladien, Love, I need your sweet call… Spark some of my buried talent, please…)