Of The Line Of Estelondo: Percival's Tale.

Chapter 4: Preparing For The Journey To Helkaluksor

Orónëminya was cradling the young, sleeping Metimafoa, in her arms, as she continued on to the East. The weather was humid and warm, the road being directly between the deserts of Esteltumbo, and the Ice Fields of Helkaluksor. She stumbled once, then again, before collapsing to her knees, awaking Metimafoa, in the process.

Metimafoa smiled at his sister, possessing the mental speed of elves, but still looking no older than a two year old. He was strong, and quick, for his age. Although he was intelligent, he was still young, and being raised by a girl with an appearance of no older than fourteen years old, who had never herself raised a child. "I am thirsty, Orónëminya. Would you fetch me some water?"

Orónëminya nodded, too tired to speak, but still she stood, and began walking North, towards the Nenmar River, which she had been following the course of.

Surprisingly, she bore Metimafoa's request with no ill will, instead wanted only to help her brother, despite the fact that she had already walked nearly 27 miles in the past day, without rest. For the last 23 miles, she had carried Metimafoa, on and off, whenever he got tired.

As she fell to her knees once again, this time on the shores of the eastward flowing Nenmar River, staring at he reflection on the water. She dipped her callused hands in the water, and drew forth some of the life saving, ice cold water. She had been taught table manners by her mother, before her mother had died, and therefore tried to drink it in as courteous of a way as possible.

However, as soon as the water touched her lips, Orónëminya realised exactly how thirsty she was, and plunged head first into the deep, crystal clear waters of the Nenmar River, guzzling the water too quickly at first. She barely managed to pull herself free from the current, and to the side of the river, before regurgitating all of the water she had just downed in a matter of seconds. Holding her stomach as it chastened her for her stupidity, Orónëminya crawled over to the river, and more slowly began to drink again, her stomach accepting the water carefully. When she had drank her fill, she flipped over onto her back, making sure not to lie in her stomach fluid. While staring up at the Sun, she smiled and began to drift off to sleep, warm, although wet, and hydrated.

Two small hands touched her neck, and she sat up quickly, though groggily, and looked into the red-rimmed eyes of her youngest brother, Metimafoa. "I thought you were dead, Meldaorónë.(Beloved Sister.)" Metimafoa was failing to hold back his tears, as Orónëminya began to feel her heart be weighed down with guilt. "I thought that I would never see you again." He was openly weeping now, so she reached out, and held him, attempting to assuage his feelings. "I thought you had left me all alone." This he whispered, his voice barely audible above the swiftly flowing stream.

Orónëminya pulled back from the embrace, but kept her hands on Metimafoa's shoulders, forcing him to look at her, as she apologized. "I am sorry, Metimafoa, I was tired, and accidentally fell asleep. I pray to Námo that you will forgive me." Drawing him into another embrace, she then pulled back, and stated, "I will never leave you nor forsake you, Toronnya"

"Do you promise?" He asked

"On my life, Metimafoa. On my life."

Metimafoa stood, on his small, infantile legs, and crossed over to the river. Seeing the redness in his eyes, he splashed water on his face, to try and wash it off. When he gave up on his efforts, he leaned in, to drink from the river... and immediately fell in.

Orónëminya laughed gently, without a malicious intent, and pulled him out of the river. He was sopping wet, but smiling in spite of himself, as Orónëminya lifted him up out of the water.

Orónëminya looked around at where they were standing, on the shores of the river, then up at the sun. The sun had just reached a location that she assumed was leaving it at around 7:45 WTT, but she could not be certain.