[Mithalwen]

Perhaps there was a limit to misfortune even in such desperate situations. Somehow Losrian got herself, the child and the pony out of the city. Somehow she evaded the hoardes of foes who had invaded the city while using a breach they had created to escape. The fabled wealth of the mirdain was of more interest to them than a few pathetic refugees. The smoke they had created provided cover as the trio left the city and picked their way across the battlefield then across anxious miles to the shelter of the woods.

Though this provided some cover, Losrian was far from feeling secure. While she could go on Galmir was another matter. Although he could walk he was too small to cope with long distances or rough terrain and had been carried by Losrian until they left the city behind and now was curled up in one of the pony's panniers. The pony had stumbled and was now a little lame. They would need to find somewhere to rest for a few hours at least.

Losrian remembered that deep in the woods were huts used by the elves when doing forestry work .... that would be safest she thought .. not that anywhere was truly safe. At least there would be shelter and she could tend the horse and the child ...and herse lf.. she realised she had many cuts and bruises - but her injuries were negligible compared to... no she mustn't think about Ferin. Not now. Though the grey clothes she wore were heavily stained by his blood. She would have to keep watch and listen for danger while his son slept. Try and get him to safety, maybe to her parents in Lindon - if even Lindon was safe now. She feared that having destroyed Ost in Edhil they would move to the last realm of the Noldor in Middle Earth.

So even when she reached the hut and settled child and beast as best she could. There was some provisions there - hay, old but not musty (and the pony was not fussy) - and a supply of firewood . A fire would be cheering but it was out of the question while pursuit was so possible.

Losrian sighed and drew her cloak about her. She had her bow strung and and her knife to hand. She was exhausted in body and spirit but deperately tried to alert. For if she let down her guard, she would be trapped.

So she remained for some hours until tiredness won over her resolve. She was woken by a faint rustle - chiding herself for her weakness and looking across to the pony who she hoped was the source of the noise.

To her horror the beast slept as did the child. The noise was outside. Soft footsteps - those could be elves but heavier ones too .... a vision of orcs guarding a group of thralls filled her mind. Her greatest fear and it was too late seemingly to escape. She took up her bow and nocked an arrow....She thought she heard horses and the pony stirred... was this a strand of hope - orcs did not ride she knew ... but they were not the only servants of the enemy. She held her breath...