#turambarmasterofdoom

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@turambar-masterofdoom

“Beleg, yer other human is growling at me. Ye sure he doesn’t bite like? I am growing mighty worried”

Have has everyone been?

So they’d found Rossiel even here.  They always found her, no matter where she hid.  That was the thing about dreams: everything was you-- even if it was you wearing the shape of something cruel and impossibly strong-- and you could never hide from yourself.

Something caught her wrist, perhaps a little too roughly.  Varda’s stars did not reach the cave where she and the Man who’d come travelling with her had sheltered for the night, and the fire had been put out to prevent... well... this.

Go look in that satchel-- there should be something your size, and I’d feel better if you were armed.

She’d hated that knife from the first, even now as she fumbled in the dark for it with the hand that was free.  Now.  Now.  Now.  If not now, they’d take her, and she’d be sure to meet a worse end than old Talagan.  Screwing her eyes shut tight, she struck out with a cry.  Struck... something, but its voice belonged to...

“...Túrin?”

“I don’t know his name… one of your soldiers,” Oropher didn’t look at him, but rather stared at his reflection in the mirror while he rubbed ointment on his bruised face. His hair had been partially pulled out of his braid, his face was pale and livid and his teeth chattered with suppressed rage. He looked wild.

“These men… they seem to think I am a simple whore whom they can touch and do with as they please,” he hissed furiously. “They are mistaken.”

*pokes sibling*