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6 Fourth Age: Chill the BONE; [open]
Topic Started: 20 Dec 2008, 03:52 AM (144 Views)
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To go unnoticed in the snow was a thing of wonder anymore. Gone were the days when one could find a cloak to match all seasons or a cloak that changed with them. He recalled such things of course, but he had nothing like that. So for him, an elf dressed in dark and armor, and cloaked in black, on the back of a black horse that made even him feel small, it was simply put a miricle that no one had seen him as of yet. Then again, the whispers of the stupidity of Dwarves even he had heard before he'd been locked away, or so he thought he remembered.

He turned the horse a little with unusually steady and un-gloved hands. Givent eh thin blanket of snow and the rapidly falling tempuratures this was odd, unless one realized the man was actually an Elf. He wanted to stay in the lower hills, just work his way along and test, see how far he could go before someone or something spotted him. That's all this was, a test. The Hand of Sauron wanted to see if anything along this side of the mountains was looking for them, or for him as would more likely be the case. As it was his master's wish it was Sindoht's task. The Hand had saved him from that place, had given him power over the filthy creatures that had tortured him for ages, and now was giving him his own private missions.

He owed that man more the he cared to believe, and as such he knew he was the only trustworthy servant he had. Those things... what he would do to those things if they ever turned on him, they would never see him coming. He would end them before they even realized he was in the room....

The horse tossed it's head nervously and he realized that he had been murmering horrible things in Elvish. He stopped suddenly and ran a hand along the massive beast's neck. He hadn't meant to, but he found himself doing that more and more often in the past few days. Like the times before however it would vanish into nothing soon enough, the murmering in his sleep, the sudden lashing out, the way he would simply attack them when they got too close. All of it would fade back into nothing soon enough. The horse seemed to believe his thoughts, although he was sure that time he hadn't voiced them, and continued on.

There was nothing moving nor any sounds of movement yet for him to pick up beyond his own. He could hear the distinctly metalic sounds of the horse's hooves stricking the rocks under the snow. No they were not all made entirely of iron, but the hills were named aptly and the amount of it that helped to form each stone was substanciel enough to ring just a bit. It almost sounded like a chorus of bells as the beast went up and then down over and over through the very edge of the hills. For some reason that sound was soothing, almost calming to him. It was that noise that distracted him from he should have heard and seen. Noises of movement, obvious motion that he should have picked out of the snow if his mind was not wondering around and around those dmandable rings.
 
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