Anneth has long clung to her dreams, though sorrow has threatened to murder them again and again. There was a time when sorrow made her hopes only sweeter, but as Sauron grows yet stronger in the East, she feels everything she has ever held dear fal...
"You refuse to take these lessons seriously, Anneth!"
"I take them seriously enough," Anneth declared confidently. "Besides, 'tis not as if I shall find need for these skills in the near future."
When the latter statement had been uttered from her lips, Voronen had frozen, dread filling his heart, the image of an innocent, unsuspecting Anneth being cut down by a heartless orc who wanted nothing more than to see the life drain from an elf's eyes. Though he teased and berated her, she was still his little sister.
The lessons had continued, and it was with renewed purpose that Voronen taught his sister, that horrible image lurking in his mind. He did not know why it troubled him so, why he thought of it so often. Determined to ensure that this never should happen, he faithfully instructed Anneth, and though she was quite hopeless in archery, and would remain so, there were improvements with her sword mastery.
In all of this, he strove to protect his sister, and make it so that she might be able to protect herself if their father or Voronen would be unable to defend them. And in all of this, he failed to understand that a time might come where he should be the one to fall in combat, and not his own sister.
On that dreadful day, when Voronen met the end of his life as he would live it in Ennorath, he thought first of his parents, then of his sisters, and then of Anneth, and how he could ensure his little sisters' safety any longer. For five moons he had been the head of that household, and now he would see them no more, until the day came that they sailed and would meet him on the gleaming, glassy shores of Elvenhome.
Until then, both he and those he had left behind would wait until the time came that they might all be united once more.
It was painful, but not needlessly would they suffer.
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My thoughts are a terrible sludge of words in my mind, and I cannot seem to continue on one line of thought.
Oh, this morn I told my sister she had nothing to fear, and now her worries have manifested themselves as reality, and there is naught I can do to suppress my guilt. I assured her positively that Thandion would be unharmed, that all would be well, and it all proved itself to be a lie. 'Tis true that I could not honestly tell if he would be unscathed, and yet it was a factual statement that I gave her, not a wavering one, one that was firm and solid, true. Only it was true not.
I stand here in the night, alone, wanting nothing more than to fall to my knees and weep for my sister, for her husband. It seemed as though the life would drain from her eyes then, and I know that if Thandion should give up the ghost, my sister shall fade, and I again will be forced to watch the life drain from the eyes of one that I hold dear to me.
Only the quite and steady chirping of crickets can be heard in this dark, unforgiving night, and I shiver, feeling chilled from the inside, knowing that as time passes, the time Thandion has decreases. If he even yet lives.
