Island of Sorrow RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Firefoot · 01-30-2006, 05:20 PM

Lómwë’s headlong rush had slowed to a miserable, witless wander. He could hardly distinguish the present from the past, or truth from imaginings. His companions were forgotten, smothered in the recesses of his mind. Only Ellothiel, her sweet face but also her mangled body, remained prominent in his mind.

He knew that he had to find the grotto, but had no idea what or where such a place might be, and his frame of mind was too torn apart for him to figure it out. It finally occurred to him as he passed a broken down section of Himring’s wall that a grotto would probably be found outside the city walls, not within them. He climbed over the remains wearily. There were no paths here, only long-abandoned wilderness that stretched and sometimes plummeted down to the Sea. He might search for hours. Blindly he set off, too occupied with thoughts to pay much attention to his path. He hardly even cared whether he discovered the grotto anymore, so long as he found Ellothiel.

He stumbled over the uneven ground numerous times, once falling down a drop of three feet. Even this could hardly even faze him. He was lost, in more than one way, and even in his confused state he recognized this truth. Who am I – really? What parts of me are alive – really? Have I done anything in the past several thousand years worth living for – really living for? I have done nothing, I am like nothing, and nothing gives me joy. Not without Ellothiel. Because she is gone – and it is my fault. Can I ever be anything again? Yet some insatiable shred of his mind remained convinced that Ellothiel might be found here on this island.

By some chance his wanderings brought him to a stretch of green grass, giving him a clear view of the Sea. Only an ugly tangle of vines and brambles marred the scene – and it was with these brambles that Lómwë most identified.

“Lómwë? Lómwë!” The call jerked him out of this reverie. The voice… Endamir’s. He approached the edge of the precipice and found his companion standing at the bottom with the unconscious bodies of Lindir and Orëmir. Lómwë knew that he was not as relieved to have found them as Endamir sounded to have found him.

“Lómwë, I need your help – we need to get Lindir and Orëmir to the top.” He indicated the large basket and rope.

Lómwë shrugged. “I don’t see why it matters. I don’t know why any of this matters. I can’t escape it, Endamir. She’s gone, and I might as well be, too. Maybe you can still see some point to this all, but I don’t anymore. In fact, I don’t remember if I ever did. If it makes a difference, I can help you with the basket… but I don’t know why. I’ve lost it, Endamir. I lost it a long time ago.”

01-30-2006, 05:20 PM	#11
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	Lómwë’s headlong rush had slowed to a miserable, witless wander. He could hardly distinguish the present from the past, or truth from imaginings. His companions were forgotten, smothered in the recesses of his mind. Only Ellothiel, her sweet face but also her mangled body, remained prominent in his mind. He knew that he had to find the grotto, but had no idea what or where such a place might be, and his frame of mind was too torn apart for him to figure it out. It finally occurred to him as he passed a broken down section of Himring’s wall that a grotto would probably be found outside the city walls, not within them. He climbed over the remains wearily. There were no paths here, only long-abandoned wilderness that stretched and sometimes plummeted down to the Sea. He might search for hours. Blindly he set off, too occupied with thoughts to pay much attention to his path. He hardly even cared whether he discovered the grotto anymore, so long as he found Ellothiel. He stumbled over the uneven ground numerous times, once falling down a drop of three feet. Even this could hardly even faze him. He was lost, in more than one way, and even in his confused state he recognized this truth. Who am I – really? What parts of me are alive – really? Have I done anything in the past several thousand years worth living for – really living for? I have done nothing, I am like nothing, and nothing gives me joy. Not without Ellothiel. Because she is gone – and it is my fault. Can I ever be anything again? Yet some insatiable shred of his mind remained convinced that Ellothiel might be found here on this island. By some chance his wanderings brought him to a stretch of green grass, giving him a clear view of the Sea. Only an ugly tangle of vines and brambles marred the scene – and it was with these brambles that Lómwë most identified. “Lómwë? Lómwë!” The call jerked him out of this reverie. The voice… Endamir’s. He approached the edge of the precipice and found his companion standing at the bottom with the unconscious bodies of Lindir and Orëmir. Lómwë knew that he was not as relieved to have found them as Endamir sounded to have found him. “Lómwë, I need your help – we need to get Lindir and Orëmir to the top.” He indicated the large basket and rope. Lómwë shrugged. “I don’t see why it matters. I don’t know why any of this matters. I can’t escape it, Endamir. She’s gone, and I might as well be, too. Maybe you can still see some point to this all, but I don’t anymore. In fact, I don’t remember if I ever did. If it makes a difference, I can help you with the basket… but I don’t know why. I’ve lost it, Endamir. I lost it a long time ago.”