The Lastborn: A Middle Earth Story(Book 1)(EDITING)

Chapter 16: A Revelation... And a Dragon

 The sun dipped lower in the sky as Gerithor and his companions continued their journey towards Fornost. The rhythmic clip-clop of their horses' hooves echoed through the landscape. They had ridden for hours, pushing their mounts to cover as much ground as possible. As they finally halted for a brief respite, Gerithor dismounted, feeling the weariness in his legs.

"This is why I don't ride horses more often," Gerithor remarked, pulling his knee up to his chest to stretch, a grimace crossing his face.

"I like it personally," Eldahir chimed in, grinning at his friend. "It makes trips faster and saves you the work of running."

"Aye, that it does. But it also gives you a world of pain in your backside," Gerithor responded with a smirk. His eyes then shifted toward his father, Gerimond, who stood a short distance away, gazing down the hillside towards Fornost. Gerithor understood his father's silence. If not for the encouragement from Eldahir and Sarina, Gerithor knew he'd be grappling with grief for his mother, succumbing to despair. Gerimond dealt with the pain by keeping to himself, speaking only when necessary.

Gerithor turned his attention to Sarina, who was tending to her horse with gentle whispers and the offering of an apple. Despite the hardships they faced, she seemed to adapt to her new life well. Gerithor smiled, appreciating her resilience, and then turned back to Eldahir.

"How are you holding up?" Gerithor inquired, diverting the conversation.

"I'm alright. I'm more concerned about you; you've lost so much," Eldahir expressed with genuine concern. A pang of grief coursed through Gerithor, but he suppressed it and mustered a reassuring smile.

"I'll be okay. Don't worry about me; focus on the path ahead. We'll all need our wits about us at journey's end." With a brief nod, Gerithor shifted his attention to his horse's saddlebag, rummaging through the small pack attached to it.

Their contemplative moment was interrupted when Gerimond addressed the entire group. "From here, we'll have to leave the horses behind. They'll be too loud." His eyes met each companion's gaze, finally settling on Gerithor.

"He's right. They'll give us away," Gerithor affirmed, turning to face the group.

"What will we do with them?" Sarina asked, her expression tinged with concern.

"Let them go. They know their way back to Rivendell; they'll return there eventually," Gerithor explained, offering her a comforting smile. She reluctantly released her horse, and Eldahir gave his a gentle slap, sending it galloping into the forest. Gerithor and Gerimond's horses followed suit. Fortunately, Gerithor had managed to free his pack first, and the others had already removed theirs.

Gerimond gestured towards the forest. "Son, let's go fetch some water." Gerithor followed, mildly perplexed, as his water bottle was nearly full. As they distanced themselves from the camp, Gerimond turned to face his son.

"I feel that I need to explain something to you," Gerimond began, catching Gerithor off guard.

"Go ahead," Gerithor replied, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"I've known Sarina for several years now, Gerithor. She's the daughter of one of my best friends, a man from Bree. After he and his wife were killed, I vowed to protect their daughter. I taught her how to fight and use a bow and kept watch over her home for years. I admit, it's a strange coincidence that you came upon her," Gerimond said, a glint of recognition in his eyes. "But perhaps it wasn't a mere coincidence. Fate weaves people's lives together in strange ways."

Gerithor's surprise was evident as he stared at his father. "Why keep this from me until now?"

"I informed your mother. I didn't think it would be significant to you, so I didn't bring it up. When you arrived in Rivendell with her, I intended to tell you, but the opportunity never presented itself." Gerimond fixed his gaze on Gerithor, his expression intense.