#wingedherald

Already, the fingers of night crept along the tangled tussocks. All life droned to an eerie hush, and the chilly howling of the breeze stilled upon the forest. Aragorn, trudging, heard that pulse of his crashing; it boomed with haste in tandem with the storm within the clouds. Afeared, a doe skittered rightly away. The owls in their hovels swallowed their coos -- for alas!, banked by the meadows, a damning maiden towered whose grace shrunk the blooms. The Ranger gripped his pommel. "Dusk would not have settled so soon," said he.