The Night's Wanderer

Preview

A silhouette emerged from the cracks in the vast, dark mountain range. The darkness of the night sky hid them from the view of others; they were cast in the mountain's shadow which hid them from any watching eyes. It was unlikely any eyes sat on them at all, not many notice this person even in daylight, as they follow the beckoning whispers in their mind. 

Behind them, a rhythmical trotting followed. The trotting came from a horse, a steed whose loyalty followed the person before him. 

They had been journeying south from the more chilled lands of the Northern Waste, specifically Forodwaith, where they had been last called to. It had been far too long since walking in the warmer lands past Anymar.

The wandering figure stopped in their tracks, their lips moving silently as the wind crashed upon them, looking straight out to the path the voices created in the new terrain. Now off the mountain edge the figure could make out a simpler land to traverse across. Instead of fragile cliffs and crumbling mountains, nothing but empty plains of grassland and dense areas of forest stood before them.

"Celebrandir," A scratchy voice called out over the gushing wind. The horse trotted forward until the slim hand of the wanderer could grasp his reins, "We go south-east, through the night we will travel. But I will need your legs for speed, I am too weak to travel through the night."

In understanding the creature nuzzled the slim hand holding his rein, a gesture understood by the wanderer. 

The wanderer moved to the horse's saddle to ensure, with the touch of their hands, that everything was still secure from the rocky ride behind them. The travel pack sat on the horse's back along with a simple bow and quiver.

Quickly the figure removed the bow and quiver and secured them to their back, tightening the straps of the quiver by one hole in the leather. The quiver sat across their back, followed by the dark wood bow. 

After ensuring they were secure the slim hands moved to the figure's waist, on their belt sat two cool objects. The two swords tapped their legs as they were moved.

"Council of the Night." The figure called out into the darkened sky where stars twinkled softly. "The task at hand you have entrusted to me and I will die before leaving it unfinished, but to complete it I need your eyes."

In their mind the voices whispered quickly, opinions shared, and a decision was made. 

The figure moved themselves to the saddle's stirrup. 

With a sharp breath in, they boosted themselves up onto the saddle, reins already in hand. The darkness of the night finally washed over them as they awaited the decision of the Council above them. 

In a quiet voice the figure moved to the ear of the steady steed, "To Rivendell we fly my friend." 

The horse started moving off to the fields before him, his tread held a confidence like it was a path he follows often- yet neither of the two had walked upon this land in recent decades.

As the rider stared blindly ahead into the darkness of the world around them a single empowering voice spoke up in their mind. 

"We gift you our eyes," the voice echoed out, "but wish nothing else in excess on this journey, Night Star, for you know the pain a Wanderer is inflicted with when acting foolishly."

The figure bowed in their saddle. 

"Thank you, my Lady, I am most grateful and will do as you command." As the words left their chapped lips a world of glowing objects appeared before them. Trees and rocks could be seen before him as small glowing lines, as well as the hidden path he needed to follow.

Encouragingly, the Wanderer knocked the horse with their heels, the horse trotted quickly into a gallop. 

The correct path the horse knew not in the dark setting, but by the guiding tug of the hands on his reins to Rivendell they ride.