[CaptainofDespair]

With the fiery sky illuminating his haughty features, the Elf peered into the blood red sky, seeking answers to the enigmatic questions that played in his mind. His mind interrogated him, demanding appeasement. He could give it none, for his was confounded, and he perched himself against a disjointed wall, hoping for the solitude he most direly needed. His mind raced, unforgiving in its nature, and it incessantly craved the answers he could not give. Suddenly, Orodruin shook the very realm that harbored it, erupting in spectacular, red and orange bursts of flame and ash. And thus ended the enigmas that played through his mind. The fiery explosion from the mountain sent shockwaves, both physical, and psychological, through the Elf’s mind. His mind had its answer; traverse the Morgul Road at all costs. His eyes flashed a brilliant tint of orange, glazed over by the deepening discoloration of the sky, and he rose seamlessly from his position, as if he had been made of the stone itself, and had melted from it, to the ledge on which he now stood.

His eyes flashed again, scanning the remnant survivors of the Tunnel. His gaze quickly fell on Aldor, who had been overcome by a dreadful spell, or so it seemed. The Elf trusted the man not, and he had no intention to provide any aid to him. He continued his ever so silent vigil, watching the others aid the man. A dire, most evil thought crossed his mind, but he knew it well. His delicate elven features slowly moved, contorting to the muscles that pried his lips open, and he spoke aloud. “He is not worth the effort to save. He fought not against the Lady of Tunnel, but instead hid himself away, while those braver than he fell before Her onslaught. He is coward, and those who are, must fend for themselves.” A few of the others swivelled their heads in the direction of the Elf’s voice, seemingly caught off guard by his remarks. “If he does not recover soon, we must leave him behind, and let him meet his end alone.” On this, he turned his back, and gracefully returned to the haven of the rock wall, his billowing cloak flapping in the wind behind him. The others knew not what to make of his words, but they continued to struggle with the man, as he wriggled and writhed about.

Having escorted himself back to his quiet sanctum, he relaxed. He let his tensions flow out of his mind and body, to be absorbed by the already tense atmosphere. The air whipped and fluttered about, raining hot gusts upon his face. In contrast, the rocks that his back was positioned against were cold, and unfeeling, but the cold was welcome. He used this to his benefit, and he slipped into yet another trance, dreaming the dreams he had not had in many a year. He drifted from this sweltering desert of a land, and returned to Mirkwood, his home of old. The darkness of his mind lifted momentarily, as he dreamt of the beauty of the forest, and the hanging branches, covered in vine and moss, that he had played under as a youth. His heart was relieved at these memories of old, and he felt renewed, and invigorated. And as quickly as he had entered the trance, he woke from it, to the fires and ash of Mordor. But he cared not of his current plight, for he knew what awaited him when he returned home, to Mirkwood.

Now that he was refreshed, in both body and mind, he rose once more, and left the seclusion and safety of his niche in the mountain side, in an attempt to mingle once more with those he had shared this journey with, thus far. He slowly took his steps closer to the rest of the group, cautious of them, for he did not trust the greater majority. As he wormed his way about, ever so elegantly, he spied the man Zurumor, entranced with Raeis, as she whispered her voice to him. “A fool he is. No elf would be seen with such a miserable creature as these slaves and easterners,” he thought to himself. He quickly averted his gaze so as not to witness the horrendous ogling that the man was committing, which disgusted him entirely. He continued to make his way around, glancing at the different races that were gathered about, and wondering thoughts on the individuals of the groups. “These mortals have no life-spans that amount to anything, yet they are rash and bold, and seemingly seek death.” His memory again shifted, and he stood motionless, almost stone-still, remembering his time he spent studying the Easterlings. “I must watch them carefully, these awkward Men.”