The Eye of His Dark Majesty

Eregion

The journey stretched on, and with every passing day, the weight of silence seemed to press down more heavily on our company. It was as though the very air between us had grown thick, as if every unsaid word, every hidden emotion, had taken on a life of its own. Halbrand kept his distance, though I'd sometimes catch him glancing my way, his expression unreadable, his eyes shadowed with words he never spoke. I was still angry with him for what he'd done to Isildur, and even though I could sense he wanted to say something, to bridge the distance, he didn't. The silence lay between us like a wall, and I wasn't about to be the one to tear it down, no matter how badly I wanted to. 

Isildur, for his part, had taken to avoiding me entirely. He bore a faint mark around his neck where Halbrand's forearm had pressed, and I noticed his father, Elendil, studying it now and then. But Isildur, ever proud and quick-witted, brushed it off, saying Ereclion had simply held him in a headlock too long. I knew he wouldn't reveal the truth, not with his father's sharp gaze on him and certainly not with Halbrand so near. And yet, his avoidance cut deeper than I'd expected. I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, a feeling I couldn't shake even when I tried to lose myself in the landscape.

Galadriel, too, had grown cold. She spoke to Halbrand, but where once she'd laughed warmly at his quick wit and hidden charm, now her responses were measured and distant. She only offered him a polite smile here and there, and her tone had lost its warmth. I could see the strain in her, the way she masked her thoughts, her mind clearly burdened by something. It was a sharp contrast from the Galadriel who, only days before, had been caught in Halbrand's gaze with what seemed like the spark of something deeper. Now, she seemed untouchable, almost as if a barrier had settled around her, distancing her from all of us.

Our journey wound through landscapes that were at once familiar and yet seemed otherworldly in their beauty. The chill of Middle-earth had begun to settle in, creeping into our bones, though the scenery retained a strange, wild vitality. We passed rolling meadows dotted with wildflowers—vibrant purples, yellows, and blues that danced in the breeze like tiny flames. The mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks shrouded in mist, stark and imposing. Forests flanked our path, with trees so tall their branches seemed to touch the sky, and the air was so clean it felt as though every breath sharpened my senses.

The crisp mountain air was tinged with the scent of pine and earth, and the ground beneath our horses' hooves was soft with fallen leaves. The colors around us were striking—the deep greens of the trees, the dark soil, the occasional bright splash of a bird darting past. In the evenings, the sky would darken to a rich indigo, and the stars above us seemed closer and brighter than they ever had back home. And yet, the beauty of it all was somehow overshadowed by the tension we carried, the weight of secrets left unspoken.

To fill the void of silence and distract myself, I often fell in beside Ereclion, my brother. He was a welcome presence amid the uneasy silence, though I sometimes wondered if he truly grasped the dangers ahead. He was trying to keep his spirits up, and in typical fashion, he'd turned his attention to the promise of meeting new people along the way.

"Imagine the beauty of the she-elves," he said one evening, nudging me with a grin. "I can't wait to see them, all that ethereal grace and mystery."

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the disgust from my expression. "Must you be so insufferable, Ereclion?"

He shrugged, clearly unbothered by my tone. "What? I've never met an elven lady. Just a bit curious, that's all. And you don't count, patently" His grin was teasing, and I lightly punched his arm in response. 

But I couldn't share in his lighthearted wonder, not with the weight of everything I carried. After all I'd been through—losing my mother's necklace, facing Adar, Halbrand's brooding presence, the coldness from Galadriel—I felt an almost visceral distaste for everything these days. I felt myself sinking deeper into confusion, burdened by guilt and uncertainty.