[piosenniel]

Amanaduial’s post - Coromswyth

In the dismal setting of the Vale of Anduin, the sun beat down wearily upon the company of elves as they made their way through the long grass, the three at the front on foot and one, a woman, at the back, riding a grey stallion. A dry, lazy wind blew across the plain, ruffling the long grasses through which they strode and ruffling the stallion’s coat so a thousand different colours showed, sunlight playing across the crest of a wave. The stallion’s rider smiled slightly at the beauty of such a simple thing, then glanced backwards again at the path they had taken, her sharp grey eyes taking in everything. Like the pair of brothers who walked behind their master, Coronswyth was slightly uneasy at taking this route. It was some way longer than the more direct route possible. She waited intently, her eyed on her hands as they smoothed down the horse’s coat around it’s shoulders, as she listened to Ambarturion’s answer to his pupils.

“There is great need of haste put upon us, but these lands are dangerous and we must take what care we can…”

Coromswyth nodded slightly, satisfied, as she listened to the master’s reasoning. It had been the answer she had expected, of course, as it was what they had discussed, but she was curious as to Ambarturion, and to his pupils. The older elf was mysterious, so stern and proud, and Coromswyth had barely exchanged a few word with him since they set out from Lorien that morning. In fact, come to think of it, she mused with a slight bemused smile, she hadn’t actually exchanged a single word with him since they set out. But his dark grey eyes said all that they needed to: every time he looked at her, they fairly seemed to radiate disapproval. The elf smiled to herself: she wasn’t as yet sure of why exactly Ambartution disapproved, but was fairly ready to bet it would be because of her openness to other races – she had heard of Ambarturion, although she was not yet personally acquainted with him. He shared the view of many of the elder elves among the Galadrim: he wished to leave Middle Earth to whatever fate awaited it and it’s people. After all, Coromswyth added dryly, The Age of Elves is passing. Why should the elves defend the coming of the Age of Men?

There was both bitterness and gladness in the fact that the elves would soon need to leave Middle Earth, and Coromswyth was not sure which she felt more definitely. She had travelled far, and had seen some things that made her almost think that Men deserved the doom Sauron had in store for them: but then, what of the rest? Not all men were evil: they were weak, like children in their headstrong ways and instinctive manner, and children should be looked after, not scorned for their inevitable mistakes. And she had not seen nearly enough of Middle Earth: in a thousand lifetimes of men there would not be enough time for that. Maybe if she could just keep hold of a few more of them…

“My lady, are you keeping well?”

Caranbaith’s soft, courteous question brought Coromswyth back to reality and she looked down at the elf walking beside her, nodding. A swathe of black hair fell across her cheek and she brushed it back lightly. “Aye, thank you,” she answered, smiling at the elf. He nodded, inclining his head to her formally, before returning to walk ahead with his brother. Coromswyth watched them, a wistful tinge tinting her gaze. They were more than one hundred years younger than her brother had been when he had been ambushed with Celebrian on the Redhorn pass, and Ambarturion was to them what her father had been to Merydhan – their teacher, tutor, guide. Indeed, Ambarturion struck her as being like her father: a distant, proud figure, stern, wise and strong. Why, with their grey eyes, fine bones and black hair, she and Ambarturion even shared their beauty. How ironic then, she mused, that their opinions differed so greatly with respect to this beautiful Middle Earth.

Watching Caranbaith and Megilaes, she sighed slightly, unsually melancholy. They were younger than her brother had been when he had passed to the Halls of Mandos, but in the time between their age and his, who knew what would happen? For the elves do not have so much time left any more…the sands of time are running out for us, I fear, and the hour glass is almost empty...