Eru help him, Maedhros knew all too well the effect of supernatural pulls. The ruins were ominous to him, therefore, and he drew his sword as he entered them. If it weren't for the other explorers, he would not have entered them at all. But if there was some foul presence at the heart of the ruins, he knew he stood a better chance of defeating it - or, at least, slowing it down.
The skeletons reinforced his opinion and his lips were pressed into a grim line as he observed how they fell.
"There is mischief in the air." unwelcome mischief. The sort of mischief that Morgoth and Sauron would have delighted over.
"Let us tarry only a short while." he knew he had no power over those around him, but he would not be silent on this point. For the time being, he set about scanning the perimeter, quickening his strides to cover more ground.
II. THE ESCAPE: Part One
Nothing was easy. Thankfully Maedhros was accustomed to hardship. Upon seeing the sea beasts again, his sword, which had not stayed long in its sheathe since he arrived, was out and ready to cut off the parts that threatened the longboat he occupied. The vessel rocked violently to and fro and eventually he was forced to crouch - instead of standing up.
"Hold on as best you can and keep rowing!" he gave the order as if it was perfectly natural for him to do so. He had been the leader - the elder brother - since he was an Elfling. Madness and grief would not keep him from continuing his one decent legacy: the protection of those he allied himself with.
II. THE ESCAPE: Part Two
Once aboard one of the main ships, he kept himself on deck, facing the beasts without any sign of tiring. His sword cut easily through wriggling tentacles and some dark part of him rejoiced at the sounds of pain he inspired. However all of his good deeds could not save him from the acidic blast. The force of the attack knocked him flat and he felt the wood give away beneath his back.
He also felt something wet soaking through his shirt.
No, not soaking. Burning. With a cry, he rolled himself onto his knees, away from the crumbling remains of the ship and tore off his shirt. His back was already sorely blistered.
no subject
Eru help him, Maedhros knew all too well the effect of supernatural pulls. The ruins were ominous to him, therefore, and he drew his sword as he entered them. If it weren't for the other explorers, he would not have entered them at all. But if there was some foul presence at the heart of the ruins, he knew he stood a better chance of defeating it - or, at least, slowing it down.
The skeletons reinforced his opinion and his lips were pressed into a grim line as he observed how they fell.
"There is mischief in the air." unwelcome mischief. The sort of mischief that Morgoth and Sauron would have delighted over.
"Let us tarry only a short while." he knew he had no power over those around him, but he would not be silent on this point. For the time being, he set about scanning the perimeter, quickening his strides to cover more ground.
II. THE ESCAPE: Part One
Nothing was easy. Thankfully Maedhros was accustomed to hardship. Upon seeing the sea beasts again, his sword, which had not stayed long in its sheathe since he arrived, was out and ready to cut off the parts that threatened the longboat he occupied. The vessel rocked violently to and fro and eventually he was forced to crouch - instead of standing up.
"Hold on as best you can and keep rowing!" he gave the order as if it was perfectly natural for him to do so. He had been the leader - the elder brother - since he was an Elfling. Madness and grief would not keep him from continuing his one decent legacy: the protection of those he allied himself with.
II. THE ESCAPE: Part Two
Once aboard one of the main ships, he kept himself on deck, facing the beasts without any sign of tiring. His sword cut easily through wriggling tentacles and some dark part of him rejoiced at the sounds of pain he inspired. However all of his good deeds could not save him from the acidic blast. The force of the attack knocked him flat and he felt the wood give away beneath his back.
He also felt something wet soaking through his shirt.
No, not soaking. Burning. With a cry, he rolled himself onto his knees, away from the crumbling remains of the ship and tore off his shirt. His back was already sorely blistered.