"It is true, there are others wounded worse than you, but if you care to look around, you would realize that they are all warriors, accustomed to this sort of thing, and equipped to handle it. You are just a maiden of the city, with a look as though you have never picked up a sword before, and you are not prepared to deal with your wound," Sirithadar said, glancing constantly and unknowingly at the precipice that Glorfindel had fallen over. As he watched, Thorondor, the greatest of the Eagles, swept down into the chasm. Before Sirithadar could do more than start towards it to see what had happened, the eagle reappeared, carrying the body of Glorfindel gently. Instantly the refugees converged on him, intent on honoring their dead hero. Sirithadar was right at the head of the group.

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Thorondur gently laid Glorfindel's body in front of Aesuthiel. She cradled his head in her arms, washing his bloodied face off with her tears and she knew then that there was nothing she could have done. "Glorfindel, why did you leave me brother? Why!" She continued to weep silent tears and cry out to him though he could not hear. Aesuthiel was in such a stupor that she didn't notice that all the refugees had crowded around his body. She bent her head down laid in on his bosom, she felt dizzy and her eyes had begun to see stars and patterns dancing sickenly in front of her. Before she knew why she felt so strangly, Aesuthiel had fallen into a dead faint.

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Atalante gave a cry, more of anguish than of pain, and fell to her knees beside the unconscious Aesuthiel. Her eyes filled with tears again and she gently pulled the other elf's head into her lap, off the hard ground, and looked up at Sirithadar and the others. "I was not jesting when I said others needed assistance more than I."

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Cuwe stood silently beside Glorfindel's limp body for a moment, before turning to the unconcious woman. He looked for his water skin, but didn't find it. He must have lost it in the fight. "She needs water." he said to no one in particular.

This looks like a good RP. Mind if I join? If so, can someone update me on whats going on?

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Do not draw you sword without cause, do not sheath it without honor.

Sure, feel free to join, Macarion.

Basically, we're still in the mountains, and Thorondor has just brought Glorfindel's body out of the chasm that he and the balrog fell into when they fought. Aesuthiel (Morwen's character) has fallen unconscious, and Sirithadar (my character) has run up, and both Atalante and Cuwe are tending to her, while Erana's doing....something. She hasn't posted since Glorfindel fell over the edge.

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"Alas, I do not have water," Sirithadar said. "I only brought miruvor, for it is more sustaining, but perhaps it will do instead of the cooler liquid."

He pulled out his flask of miruvor that he had so recently offered to Atalante, and held it out again, for it seemed that the maiden would know more about healing than he did.

"She merely swoons, and no more, right?" Sirithadar asked, concerned about the health of his friend. If Glorfindel's sister died so shortly after his own death, the effect would be chaos in the ranks of the refugees.

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(Sorry I haven't posted for a while, I've been too busy... )

When Thorondor appeared, bearing Glorfindel's body, Erana was shocked. She didn't move from her place at first, she just stood and watched the scene that happened before her eyes. Aesuthiel, Glorfindel's sister, broke down, and the rest of the small group tried everything to wake her. At least Erana woke up as if she was sleeping, she quickly came near towards Aesuthiel's body as well. She kneeled down beside her and pulled out a small water bottle from her belt, it was nearly emptied, but a few mouthful of water still were inside.

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Aesuthiel blinked as cool liquid was poured down her throat, reviving her. Stars still danced in front of her eyes, but now she felt less dizzy. "Wha..what happened? Was I dreaming?" She sat up and looked around, her vision going in and out of focus. Catching sight of Glorfindels body, she froze, her face a mask of disbelief. "So it wasn't a dream. He really is gone, and I am here." Her voice now was hard and cold as she slowly began wiping the grime from his face. Aesuthiel straightened his hair and smoothed the creases out of his tunic, she bent down and kissed him on the forehead. A golden rising sun which had once emblazoned the front of his tunic, now was bloodstained and torn. Taking his sword she laid it beside him and started to sing, a lament for one of Gondolin's greatest heros. She falterd, her voice that had for so long gone unused, cracked and broke.

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A high, sweet voice continued Aesuthiel's song softly. Atalante looked at the ground, tears rolling slowly down her cheeks from where she sat - tears for her family and Glorfindel and the horrible change fate had wrought in their lives. But she kept singing.

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Lol, don't expect Sirithadar to join in the singing....^_^

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Sirithadar looked around, seeing the dirty and bruised faces of the fugitives, and realized that every single one of them had tears streaming down their faces. With a small start, he realized that he did, too. One by one, the other women in the group started to pick up the song, until all of them were singing, while the warriors stood to the side with bowed heads. The eagles stood by, looking sad themselves, and over everything Tuor watched, his golden hair bloodied and dirty, but being where he was needed - a last surviving hero and lord of Gondolin in a group of lowly warriors and townsfolk. By his side stood Idril, the King's daughter, holding Earendil by the hand.

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The song ended, and in the ensuing moment of silence Atalante suddenly realized her sleeve was soaked with blood. She cast about for the bandage Sirithadar had handed her, wanting desperately not to be noticed, to slip away and not be a nuisance.

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Sirithadar sighed, noticing that the elf maiden's wound was continuing to bleed. "Foolish girl," he muttered under his breath, pulling his miruvor out again. "I told you that you should take care of that wound," he chided gently, wiping the tears off of his cheeks as he handed the flask to the maiden.

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Atalante tossed her hair back from her face, and this time took the little flask. "Hannon le," she said quietly, with a glance up at him. "I am afraid I forgot - I am unused to battle." She admitted this very quietly, not meeting his eyes, "I never had cause to learn."

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Aesuthiel stood and pushed her way through the ring of people gatherd around her brother. She bowed to Thorondur, thanking him for bring her brother back, and then wanderd away from everyone else. They needed to keep moving, if they stayed here the would be caught for sure. Even though Aesuthiel wished to remain by her brothers side, she knew it wasn't possible. She ripped a strip off her tunic and made a sling for her bad arm, the bones in her collar would need to be reset. "Tuor....we should either find a place to make camp or contiue onthe road soon." Aesuthiel had silently siddled up beside him and had signaled his attention.

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Sirithadar glanced up as Tuor raised his voice, so that they all could hear. "We cannot stay here, lest we too be slain, but there is something we must do before we may continue," the lone human said. "We did not have a chance to do it for our other heroes and beloved warriors, but with Glorfindel, we shall."
The blond-haired man led them as they built a mound of stones around the body of their fallen hero, raising it high enough that it would not be lost with the first rain or strong wind.

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Erana watched him build the mound of stones for Glorfindel. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away to the ground. She sat down on a small flat rock as the pain in her left leg was too much for her to bear anymore. She took out her bottle with the water again and took a sip before looked around at the others.

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