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Old 01-31-2007, 08:06 PM   #44
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Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: Perched on Thangorodrim's towers.
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Formendacil is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Formendacil is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.Formendacil is wading through snowdrifts on Redhorn.
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The sun was again fading in the west, and Bergil still carried Indil. Unless the Elves and their companions had left the road for one cause or another, he was hopeful of catching them before the sun set completely. He was already quite certain that he would not find the lost womenfolk with them.

However, once he met the Elves and their company, his task was essentially done. He could then return to Minas Tirith, resume his furlough, and put the matter out of his mind.

At least, he could if it were not for Indil.

Bergil had seen only a few travellers on the road, most going north. All remembered seeing two Elves and companions, but not one had heard of a missing girl, nor did any recognise Indil. And the further he rode, the less likely he was to find her family.

Indil's sleep had been troubled by bad dreams. They seemed to have no discernable traits or themes that Bergil could make use of, either to comfort her or to help find her family, or else Indil understood them not or forgot them on waking. She had spent most of the long day's ride in his arms, either sleeping with her thumb between her teeth, or awake and silently gazing around. In either case, she snuggled closely, intent on keeping his presence immediate and tangible.

The supper hour had passed when Bergil sighted the company he sought. Several men and horses, preparing a camp to the side of the highway. He was spied immediately by the Elves and ranger, and when he rode into their camp, they gathered around, curious.

"Is it correct that one of you is Erebemlin Silmaethor of Lórien?"

One of the Elves stepped forward from the rest of the group. His face betrayed no concern that Bergil could read. Indeed, the entire group seemed more curious than afraid, though Bergil thought the old Arnorian ranger was wary of ill news. The Elves were unreadable. But it was clear that none of them expected any evil from a Ranger of Gondor, which was as it should be.

"I am he," said the Elf who had stepped forward. "I assume you are searching for me?"

"For your company, milord," said Bergil, dismounting carefully, Indil asleep on his shoulder. "I was bid by Prince Faramir, the Steward of Gondor, to seek you out on this road. Several ladies known to your company have vanished from Minas Tirith, and it was thought that they might have joined you. Other Rangers search to the north and east of the city."
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