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Old 11-18-2006, 05:10 PM   #25
Feanor of the Peredhil
La Belle Dame sans Merci
 
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Feanor of the Peredhil is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Feanor of the Peredhil is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.Feanor of the Peredhil is a guest of Elrond in Rivendell.
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Two days out from Minas Tirith, Bergil was making speedy progress down the great road towards Pelargir, past Lossarnach, and into Lebennin. Switching horses at every waystation, and sleeping only a few hours a night, he was certainly moving at a faster pace than the Elves and their company, who had left a trail of tales behind them in the hamlets and farms along the way. He had heard no similar stories of the missing ladies, but they might have been more discreet, and travelling ladies, while unusual on their own, are not as memorable as Elves.

Evening waned, the sun already down below the mountainous horizon to the west, and Bergil reckoned that he had little more than an hour before it would be completely dark, and he'd stop to rest. He was probably within a day's ride of the Elves and their company, and he had little desire to pass them in the dark.

Lebennin was a fairly flat and grassy land, lightly populated, and rolling gently down towards the Falas. Bergil was beginning to scan the countryside for any sort of a sheltered place to spend the night. The weather was clement, and robbers were unheard of along this highway, but drilled-in instincts searched anyway. An any event, he might yet locate the Elves. he had given up expecting to find the ladies along the road. He should have caught them already.

Eyes sweeping over the edge of the road, Bergil nearly didn't see the small figure on the edge of it ahead of him. Only the quick action of his steed's rearing up alerted him to the little girl sitting, wide-eyed, on the cobblestones, shivering.

Bergil leapt clear of his horse, grabbing the reins, and proceeding to thank and calm the startled animal. Sure of the horse, Bergil then bent over the girl. She looked terrified.

"Good even, young one," he said, crouching. "What are you doing out here, all alone?"

The girl, who Bergil judged to be no older than maybe six, bit her lip timidly, still looking up at him with wide tear-stained brown eyes. Her dress, face, and hands were grimy, and her hair hadn't seen a brush in a couple days. Bergil thought she looked both tired and hungry.

"N-n-nothing?" she whispered, watching past him to his horse. Though the road was well travelled, no strangers had yet taken notice of her; she had not been here long.

"I can see that," said Bergil, smiling widely. "How did you get here."

"I don't know." Her little voice cracked and he offered her his water skin, helping her drink.

Bergil kept smiling, but frowned inwardly. What if this girl didn't know where she came from?

"What's your name, child?" he asked, leaving that more serious issue for the moment.

"Indil." She wrapped her thin arms around her dirty knees and looked up and down the road.

"Well, Indil, I am Bergil. And I think we need to get you back to your parents. Do you know where you came from."

From the even wider eyes, Bergil had the suspicion that Indil's next words wouldn't be good. His suspicions were confirmed when, instead of her previous whispers, she began to cry.
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