Echad i Sedryn[Amarië](August 3010)
Apr 22, 2018 19:05:43 GMT -5
Post by SAEROS on Apr 22, 2018 19:05:43 GMT -5
The tree’s of Mirkwood to the north peeled away, slowly peeled away until there was nothing but moor, open moor which turned to barren soil the further south Amarië and Saeros’ traveled. Soil that was stripped away of nourishment, eviscerated to the point that it was subject to the elements. The wind blew away the loose topsoil into storms of dust. Here when it rained, the rains soaked into the ground, but nothing grew for there was a foulness upon the land that only magic could mend. When the sun beat down in the summer, her ray's baked the earth below until it cracked. A vicious cycle of unrelenting erosion of the land. Once where there had be green hill and dale, now there was nothing but shapeless slopes that were fading into flat nothing. The earth here was scared, tortured and sang a sad song to Saeros. Of days of yore, when Entwives once planted beautiful gardens of trees. Trees that were once part of the Greenwood, vast and expansive. Beeches, Elms, Oaks, Hickory and Pine. Strong trees and young Ents as well. Now there was nothing but a sadness upon the soil, the land singing of pain and desecration. Memories of war as Sauron had ruined the land against the allies who marched against him. Two weeks they had searched, and the trail was growing colder. Saeros had fought with Amarië that she needed to slow their pace or else she would be exhausted, if they were came upon by a raiding party of orcs or a scouting party of warg riders.
Saeros gave a brief glance at Amarië resting, a hand ran through his hair and he frowned. The uneven length of his hair bothered him. Taking a small throwing dagger, and without mirror or river, Saeros attempted to even out the golden strands of his hair, he was doing fairly fine, until he nicked the tip of his ear. “Orc spider, song of a nazgul” the hair fell from his hand. A hint of blood on his dagger and small slice in his ear, just a nick, but enough that Saeros had to apply pressure until a scab would form. At this point, his hair was in tatters. One side much visibly shorter than the other, One side still long and the side he had been attempting to straighten up to match the other now had a large strip missing. Saeros sighed and started again, without a pair of scissors. Saeros reached the point where he thought he had his hair even...Running his hand through the strands to loosen any errant strands. Saeros noticed his hair was still not even. Trying again, Saeros overestimated just how much hair he had removed from the back. Using his larger dagger as a mirror he frowned.
A long sigh escaped past his lips. He closed his eyes in annoyance for a moment. The front of his hair was longer in length an the sides and back. The hair was choppy and cut terrible. At this point, there was no hope for his hair. Saeros just resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to deal with his hair being messy. Taking his dagger back in hand, Saeros attempted to lop off the longer stands and the end result was hair that cried out for Amarië to help shape up the hair. There was a pile of golden hair around him, and the earth spoke to him still. Whispering of a stream that came out of a shapeless hill.
Gentle would be Saeros' hand in shaking Amarië ’s arm until his wife blinked away her dream sleep. ‘“Amarië l, we should move” came his voice as he squatted down next to his wife, resting his weight on his heels. “The earth speaks of a stream nearby,” he said, ignoring the blond pile of hair a few feet away. His fingers raked across his scalp, catching on the jagged edges of his hair that would need to be shaped up into something presentable. He looked more like a human man with shorn hair and pointy ears. When Saeros was certain Amarië was fully awake, he made the suggestion: "We should we go south further we will come to Emyn Muil. Those hills would be crawling with Orcs and a maze of passages and ridges. Straight to the black gates on the other side."
Casual as if he had not just royally screwed up his perfect blonde hair, looking much like the young Saeros that had returned to her from Anfauglith. "Do you not agree?" He asked after a moment, his wife just staring at him.
Saeros gave a brief glance at Amarië resting, a hand ran through his hair and he frowned. The uneven length of his hair bothered him. Taking a small throwing dagger, and without mirror or river, Saeros attempted to even out the golden strands of his hair, he was doing fairly fine, until he nicked the tip of his ear. “Orc spider, song of a nazgul” the hair fell from his hand. A hint of blood on his dagger and small slice in his ear, just a nick, but enough that Saeros had to apply pressure until a scab would form. At this point, his hair was in tatters. One side much visibly shorter than the other, One side still long and the side he had been attempting to straighten up to match the other now had a large strip missing. Saeros sighed and started again, without a pair of scissors. Saeros reached the point where he thought he had his hair even...Running his hand through the strands to loosen any errant strands. Saeros noticed his hair was still not even. Trying again, Saeros overestimated just how much hair he had removed from the back. Using his larger dagger as a mirror he frowned.
A long sigh escaped past his lips. He closed his eyes in annoyance for a moment. The front of his hair was longer in length an the sides and back. The hair was choppy and cut terrible. At this point, there was no hope for his hair. Saeros just resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to deal with his hair being messy. Taking his dagger back in hand, Saeros attempted to lop off the longer stands and the end result was hair that cried out for Amarië to help shape up the hair. There was a pile of golden hair around him, and the earth spoke to him still. Whispering of a stream that came out of a shapeless hill.
Gentle would be Saeros' hand in shaking Amarië ’s arm until his wife blinked away her dream sleep. ‘“Amarië l, we should move” came his voice as he squatted down next to his wife, resting his weight on his heels. “The earth speaks of a stream nearby,” he said, ignoring the blond pile of hair a few feet away. His fingers raked across his scalp, catching on the jagged edges of his hair that would need to be shaped up into something presentable. He looked more like a human man with shorn hair and pointy ears. When Saeros was certain Amarië was fully awake, he made the suggestion: "We should we go south further we will come to Emyn Muil. Those hills would be crawling with Orcs and a maze of passages and ridges. Straight to the black gates on the other side."
Casual as if he had not just royally screwed up his perfect blonde hair, looking much like the young Saeros that had returned to her from Anfauglith. "Do you not agree?" He asked after a moment, his wife just staring at him.