[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Marsilion shifted uncomfortably in the saddle as Anduneriel and Anson discussed the trip over the pass. Exchanging quick glances with Elen and Gondolin, he nudged Firien forward behind the leaders. How far the horses could go in the mountains was something Marsilion was unwilling to guess. Firien, his horse, was valuable, and precious to him. Tightening his mouth, he thought of his family, more precious by far, and ultimately decided not to argue about the horse.

Their climb into the mountains went quickly the first day, and by the time they were ready to camp they were high above the plains of Eriador. With the hobbits still riding, they reached a camping place together and stopped.

Gondolin built a fire, while the rest went about the small chores of making camp. Marsilion stood quietly, and put his fingers to the place in his shoulder where the wolf had bitten. The stiffness had nearly gone when they reached Glanduin, but during his swim in the river it had opened up again. It was hot to the touch and throbbing. Marsilion bit his lip.

Elen had been watching him from a short distance away. She came up to him, looking worriedly into his face. "Marsilion, is your arm hurting again?" she asked quietly.

Marsilion turned his face toward the horse.
"No. It's fine." he answered. He felt Elen's fingers on his other arm, and he pulled it away. There was no time to be injured or sick on this trip. He'd been hurt in the wild before, with no healer elf to fix it, it would mend itself.

"Marsilion, tell Anduneriel." Elen told him. The ranger didn't reply. "Tell her." she repeated one more time, before going about her business. Marsilion moved his hand to gently rub his aching shoulder. Maybe he'd tell Anduneriel. Maybe not.