A Snowy Mountain Summit

The sun soared in the heavens, the sparse clouds doing little to blot out the marvelously sapphire sky, as well as shade the white realm which they hung so delicately over. Though they day was as clear as spring waters the wind upon the forzen mountain summit was nearly insurmountable, this being evinced by the lone figure that padded patiently though difficultly along, stumbling every so often on part of the percussive strength of the icy air of the Far North.

At length a pair of deepest azure eyes lifted from the sparkning white of the snow, a pair of delicate, fur-gloved hands adjusting a simalarly made mask at the same time. 'The summit.' The thought was lost with the next icy blast of wind and razor-edged snow that did much to topple the slight traveler, though remained unsuccessful. With careful footing and the gale in her long, slender pointed ear, Iwendari stood once more, looking out over the expanse that dove earthward before her, the wind threatening to make her part of the scenery should she not be wary. With a slight pause, she smiled softly. 'The summit.'

The white fur cloak she bore to match her tunic, leggings, gloves and mask clung tightly to her slender frame as the wind rushed by, thousands upon thousands of snowflakes carried upon the howling, drowning, nearly overpowering wind - the feeling was one of simple though stark wonder. 'So powerful...beautiful.' The smallish smile upon the Silvanesti Elf broadened somewhat, as her thin, delicate lips and cold face could allow. It was all well, though - the cold - at times the rain, the sleet, the stinging wind. It was all not so bad really - compared to what one might expect if what the sages were calling the Age of Shadows cape to pass. The signs were already present, and slowly the sands of the hourglass built, schemed, passing only a few grains at a time - though passing still. The world - Britania - was changing - just as Troil and before it Krynn had.

The familiar guilt that Iwendari had come to know in liew of the recent months resurfaced as it had many a time before. 'I, above all, should have stayed with Tel'Mithrim. Caelreth and I.' Though Caelreth was gone, as well as Strongbow. The Silvanesti High Elf thought - standing before a spellbinding snowsacpe, the ovearbearing wind now a secondary thing (she was beginning to think like her father, aloof as a willow tree) - in both silent chastisement and deliberation. She had no regrets - though she had wishes, hopes, dreams - and at times these contridicted each other.

'Tel-Mithrim chose me from among others to fight this undeath - to fight it first before all others - though such was my fathers undoing.' Deftly, the slight Elf looked to her cloak signet - proud and ornate - embroidered with gossamer thread the crest of Tel'Mithrim. 'I shall not leave you, friends.' Suddenly, the thought made Iwendari tense - the pain in her stomach, the burning in her eyes - she wanted to cry - and did softly - standing upon the edge of oblivion.

The truth of her father's death came back to her, sorrowful, though comforting. He had not died beadsick in Qualinesti like Deleaduindill had said. The most vibrant years of his life - the ones that Iwendari was made to beileve were his most dour - (that being the last three) he was the most magnificant, the most vibrant, the most gifted as well as the most powerful and met his end fighting with Deleaduindill at his side against the order of undead hunders he had taught and trained - they had betrayed him to his death.

With a soft sniffle, Iwendari wiped at her eyes, re-living the pain of such memories with subdued gladness - it never did make sense that an Elf such as he father would conceed defeat and take a slow, crippled path to the next life. He was no Bladesinger, a goal he had aspired for yet never reached, though for what he lacked in fortitude he made up for in passion - which made his death - that of a one betrayed - all the more poigniant. He had loved Iwendari's mother with the same passion - enough so to bind her to himself in marriage - forsaking all others.

Slightly, Iwendari faultered due to the wind, though recovered easily, her mind still aloft. 'Anga, Brisid, Thranduil...they see, they must see the same weekness that runs in my veins...for I know Myra has...what with my magic...' A gift and a curse at once, simply. As one grew more attuned to the subtle variations of magic, the easier it was to manipulate. As such, the older one became it was less a sience of how much one could summon, so much as how much one could keep from being sommoned with each spellcasting. It simply wore one thin with time.

Deftly, the slight Elf looked earthward, down, over a massive glacier, over the most ancient of pine trees joining the younger forest, sweeping down into the vallies that disappeared into the horizon. 'Two years from now I will return, and match this Darkness.' Her azure eyes narrowed softly. 'I will tread with my People, though there will be a time when we will fight - and Middle Earth, Abbeir-Troil, and Krynn will be attoned for. We were not meant to lose our homes melinnia after melinnia - and when we make a stand - I will be among the number who will not be defeated.'

*winks*

-Feathers

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> The sun soared in the heavens, the sparse clouds doing little to blot out the marvelously sapphire sky, as well as shade the white realm which they hung so delicately over. Though they day was as clear as spring waters the wind upon the forzen mountain summit was nearly insurmountable, this being evinced by the lone figure that padded patiently though difficultly along, stumbling every so often on part of the percussive strength of the icy air of the Far North. > At length a pair of deepest azure eyes lifted from the sparkning white of the snow, a pair of delicate, fur-gloved hands adjusting a simalarly made mask at the same time. 'The summit.' The thought was lost with the next icy blast of wind and razor-edged snow that did much to topple the slight traveler, though remained unsuccessful. With careful footing and the gale in her long, slender pointed ear, Iwendari stood once more, looking out over the expanse that dove earthward before her, the wind threatening to make her part of the scenery should she not be wary. With a slight pause, she smiled softly. 'The summit.' > The white fur cloak she bore to match her tunic, leggings, gloves and mask clung tightly to her slender frame as the wind rushed by, thousands upon thousands of snowflakes carried upon the howling, drowning, nearly overpowering wind - the feeling was one of simple though stark wonder. 'So powerful...beautiful.' The smallish smile upon the Silvanesti Elf broadened somewhat, as her thin, delicate lips and cold face could allow. It was all well, though - the cold - at times the rain, the sleet, the stinging wind. It was all not so bad really - compared to what one might expect if what the sages were calling the Age of Shadows cape to pass. The signs were already present, and slowly the sands of the hourglass built, schemed, passing only a few grains at a time - though passing still. The world - Britania - was changing - just as Troil and before it Krynn had. > The familiar guilt that Iwendari had come to know in liew of the recent months resurfaced as it had many a time before. 'I, above all, should have stayed with Tel'Mithrim. Caelreth and I.' Though Caelreth was gone, as well as Strongbow. The Silvanesti High Elf thought - standing before a spellbinding snowsacpe, the ovearbearing wind now a secondary thing (she was beginning to think like her father, aloof as a willow tree) - in both silent chastisement and deliberation. She had no regrets - though she had wishes, hopes, dreams - and at times these contridicted each other. > 'Tel-Mithrim chose me from among others to fight this undeath - to fight it first before all others - though such was my fathers undoing.' Deftly, the slight Elf looked to her cloak signet - proud and ornate - embroidered with gossamer thread the crest of Tel'Mithrim. 'I shall not leave you, friends.' Suddenly, the thought made Iwendari tense - the pain in her stomach, the burning in her eyes - she wanted to cry - and did softly - standing upon the edge of oblivion. > The truth of her father's death came back to her, sorrowful, though comforting. He had not died beadsick in Qualinesti like Deleaduindill had said. The most vibrant years of his life - the ones that Iwendari was made to beileve were his most dour - (that being the last three) he was the most magnificant, the most vibrant, the most gifted as well as the most powerful and met his end fighting with Deleaduindill at his side against the order of undead hunders he had taught and trained - they had betrayed him to his death. > With a soft sniffle, Iwendari wiped at her eyes, re-living the pain of such memories with subdued gladness - it never did make sense that an Elf such as he father would conceed defeat and take a slow, crippled path to the next life. He was no Bladesinger, a goal he had aspired for yet never reached, though for what he lacked in fortitude he made up for in passion - which made his death - that of a one betrayed - all the more poigniant. He had loved Iwendari's mother with the same passion - enough so to bind her to himself in marriage - forsaking all others. > Slightly, Iwendari faultered due to the wind, though recovered easily, her mind still aloft. 'Anga, Brisid, Thranduil...they see, they must see the same weekness that runs in my veins...for I know Myra has...what with my magic...' A gift and a curse at once, simply. As one grew more attuned to the subtle variations of magic, the easier it was to manipulate. As such, the older one became it was less a sience of how much one could summon, so much as how much one could keep from being sommoned with each spellcasting. It simply wore one thin with time. > Deftly, the slight Elf looked earthward, down, over a massive glacier, over the most ancient of pine trees joining the younger forest, sweeping down into the vallies that disappeared into the horizon. 'Two years from now I will return, and match this Darkness.' Her azure eyes narrowed softly. 'I will tread with my People, though there will be a time when we will fight - and Middle Earth, Abbeir-Troil, and Krynn will be attoned for. We were not meant to lose our homes melinnia after melinnia - and when we make a stand - I will be among the number who will not be defeated.' > winks > -Feathers
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