Jul. 8th, 2007

sillimarilli: (Default)
He sprang down the steps and away, leaping down the path. 'Alas! An ill fate is on me this day, and all that I do goes amiss."

TTT: The Departure of Boromir

~oOo~

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~oOo~

Headlong is our flight, though we are hindered in it. We duck beneath low-hanging eaves and charge through alleys, kicking up stones and dust, not daring more speed than safe passage will allow until at last we leave the houses of the Angle’s square behind. Only then when the fallow fields open before us, with the light from Ranger Mathil’s torch passing swiftly upon the night, do we dare set the horses to full galloping. Yet still, by the heaving of Bachor's breast beneath my grip and the sounds that whip past my ears, I know him to be cursing for the slowness of our pace.

February 2008

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