𖥔 ࣪˖ ⊹₊ ⋆ ➵𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 -OIALË
↪︎ legolas thranduillion
❝Yet you offer trust so freely. What makes you think I will not turn this blade on you?❞
❝if you wanted to, you would have done so already.❞
𝗶𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ━Eliamäre daugther...
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━━act one 𖥔 ࣪˖ ⊹₊ nepenthe CHAPTER FIVE whispers of the wind ⋆₊⊹˖ ࣪𖥔 THIRD AGE YEARS ━━900
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𖥔 ࣪˖ ⊹₊ ⋆ ↪︎
❝freedom is the oxygen of the soul❞
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Eliarame's feet barely touched the smooth stone floors as she raced through the winding corridors of Rivendell, her steps as light as the autumn breeze that swirled just beyond the windows. Each turn of the ancient hallways carried with it the echoes of her passage—soft, hurried footfalls and the swish of her tunic flowing behind her like a trailing river of green. The stone beneath her bare feet felt cool and familiar, a grounding force in her excitement. High above, the arched ceilings rose like the ribs of a great beast, casting long shadows that shifted with the movement of the sun.
The soft rustle of her tunic echoed in time with the faint murmur of distant voices—Elves speaking in low, melodic tones—and the ever-present music of the waterfalls cascading from the cliffs. Their silvery hum wove through the corridors, soothing and steady, but Eliarame paid no heed to the calming atmosphere. Her mind was set on one thing, and her heart pounded in time with her hurried steps, a bubbling sense of excitement pushing her forward, faster and faster.
She rounded a corner, her breath catching in her throat as she caught sight of the open porch ahead, the entrance to the gardens beyond. The light from outside spilled into the hallway like molten gold, the rays dappling the stone floor with warmth and life. The smell of dew-kissed grass, mingled with the sharp, sweet scent of pine, drifted in, and the open air beckoned to her like an old friend. She could almost feel the pull of the valley below, the wide, open spaces calling her name.
