Greetings Friend,
As I mentioned in previous entries we are each of us handling the
situation in different ways. As yet I feel I haven't covered it enough, most
assuredly the trials being faced by the individuals I share this journey with
are of some import. Whether simply to family and friends or the greater picture
I do not know.
I know it may actually fail to interest anyone other than ourselves in any
way but to be true to the tale I know it is required. Because she is handling
it in a way that is a stark contrast to everyone else I thought beginning with
the way Kleo is handling herself would be the more interesting… except that of Our Lady but I don't think her part in
this is as important.
Where this feeling is stemmed from is not clear to my mind and yet there is
something there, something about her that will determine the fate of us all.
The fate of all Ithilien. To match her appearance, Kleo's mood has darkened
considerably and she has taken upon herself an almost lethal beauty… that of an
enchantress who will kill mercilessly and without remorse. There is something
in her eyes that speaks to me of a great trial she knows she must face, one
that will test her will sorely. After the fear we have felt recently I embrace
this tangible one in such a way as I thought impossible.
The warrior maiden's sleep has been
a restless one, if she does sleep at all. Tonight she sits opposite the fire
from me, her eyes trained on the flickering flames. In this wholesome light the
flames are reflected in her dark eyes, bringing to them light but distorting it
so that it appears cold. I wish I knew what this maiden was thinking, rarely am
I faced with such a dilemma. I would speak with Éowyn but I know that Our Lady
has a greater weight on her mind than mine and it would not do to worry her
needlessly. Undew will hear nothing from me, his coldness and aloof behaviour
towards myself are becoming increasingly worrying. But tonight that is not important,
I feel a strangeness on the breeze. As
I glanced up from my writing I was surprised to notice Kleo had sensed it also.
While I sit here writing she has moved to where she can see past the rocky
outcrop behind which we are huddled from the battering wind. In the liquid
black that surrounds our camp I see nothing, hear nothing and yet… as does Kleo
I sense something. Sending me back a glance, Kleo indicates for me to join her.
Already she has slipped into the inky blackness, none have noticed she has left.
As soon as I dig up my cloak I intend to follow her… I need to know what is out
there.
Yours in good faith
Malachi, Scribe of Ithilien.