Island of Sorrow RPG

[Firefoot]

As Lómwë climbed up the treacherous slope, he was all the more glad that they had not attempted such a climb in the night. The way was steep, and hand- and foot-holds had to be carefully picked out of the face of the rock. A single instance of misplaced weight or an ill-chosen handhold on the cliff could wreck dire consequences. Every so often bits of dust and pebbles would trickle down upon them from those climbers above, most notably from Malris in his eager climbing.

Yet Lómwë did not mind the strenuous climb in the least; indeed, he enjoyed the physical activity quite possibly more than any other deed they had yet attempted on this journey. For the climb required nearly his full concentration and he could almost forget the intent of the climb and their destination. Almost.

There was still that small corner of his mind that could not help but reflect on the fair road that had once led up to the high fortress. That road, like so many other links to the Elder Days, was gone, eroded by the passage time and the elements and lack of use. It existed only in their memories, but there the memories were sharp and clear, undimmed by the passage of time, or rather, re-illuminated by this island. But gone, Lómwë reflected sadly as he mechanically reached for the next hand-hold, his concentration momentarily lapsing.

It was at that moment that several things happened: Tasa cried out above him; a rain of dust and grit fell down upon him, momentarily blinding him; and his hand missed the crevice he had been reaching for. He swayed dangerously, scrabbling at the rock face. By lucky chance, his fingers found purchase on the rock face, and he clung tenuously, waiting for the dust to clear so that he could see enough to continue his climb.

After what seemed like ages just hanging to the rock, he looked up and saw that Tasa was now being raised with a rope to the top, and Endamir seemed to be mentally recovering. Had Tasa lost her grip? He glanced down; he was some 15 feet up, and over hard rock. That would have been a nasty fall. His mind stirred in unease; it was just one more near miss in a long string. How many more times would they get lucky? Would it be better to just turn back now? No. He had come this far, and he was going to see it through. There was too much riding on this venture, too much had been invested in it.

So he dug a little deeper and pulled himself a little higher, preparing to complete the final few feet of the ascent, the end of the beginning.