The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post

alaklondewen · 04-12-2005, 08:23 PM

In the course of several months, life had changed dramatically for the General’s wife. Before the fateful day of Beckah’s death, Arlomë had been a respected and active member of Pashtian society. Now she rarely left her estate unless absolutely necessary, and then, only in the heart of the day, when the disgusting Orc soldiers did less harm and the Elves in Kanak were treated with slightly more respect than after the instated curfues. Her faithful mornings spent in the temple of Rhais were no more as the goddess’ worshipers had been forced from the temple and threatened if they were to praise her in public. Arlomë, with her son’s aid, built a small alter in the North-east corner of the home, where the Elf now performed her daily meditation and prayer.

Then…there was Morgôs. Arlomë had watched her husband deteriorate into a shadow of his former stature. She did what she could to keep him physically healthy, but something else what eating away at him and he would not let her in to help him as she may. She had strength…enough for both of them (so she thought), but he would have to open up to her. He did not speak of it often, but she knew it hurt him to be placed in an ornamental position, filling out papers instead of using his wit and instinct to lead men on the battlefield.

Yes, her world was changed. The elf reflected as she closed her eyes tightly and let the warm evening breeze lift her hair loosely from her shoulders before it continued around the garden swaying the long tree branches and making their leaves dance. So much had happened, and more was to come. She knew not which way fate would move, but something was going to come to pass that would change the course of her life and those that were close to her. She could feel it in her bones.

04-12-2005, 08:23 PM	#235
alaklondewen Song of Seregon Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: Following the road less traveled Posts: 1,193	Arlomë In the course of several months, life had changed dramatically for the General’s wife. Before the fateful day of Beckah’s death, Arlomë had been a respected and active member of Pashtian society. Now she rarely left her estate unless absolutely necessary, and then, only in the heart of the day, when the disgusting Orc soldiers did less harm and the Elves in Kanak were treated with slightly more respect than after the instated curfues. Her faithful mornings spent in the temple of Rhais were no more as the goddess’ worshipers had been forced from the temple and threatened if they were to praise her in public. Arlomë, with her son’s aid, built a small alter in the North-east corner of the home, where the Elf now performed her daily meditation and prayer. Then…there was Morgôs. Arlomë had watched her husband deteriorate into a shadow of his former stature. She did what she could to keep him physically healthy, but something else what eating away at him and he would not let her in to help him as she may. She had strength…enough for both of them (so she thought), but he would have to open up to her. He did not speak of it often, but she knew it hurt him to be placed in an ornamental position, filling out papers instead of using his wit and instinct to lead men on the battlefield. Yes, her world was changed. The elf reflected as she closed her eyes tightly and let the warm evening breeze lift her hair loosely from her shoulders before it continued around the garden swaying the long tree branches and making their leaves dance. So much had happened, and more was to come. She knew not which way fate would move, but something was going to come to pass that would change the course of her life and those that were close to her. She could feel it in her bones.