upon his brow sits the failures of past men , of failed legacies and the pragmatic mind of a warrior. the outskirts of these woods he knows well yet ? something reeks as of late , the smell of burnt iron alongside wood ----- countless bloodshed. he , the hero of gondor , his father instills the hope of a once great nation.
a voice calls , a voice he's heard before within these woods. nights that he himself has spent tracking these lands are vast and dangerous with few allies. rohan and gondor among the last yet ? tensions are taught, boromir is weary of the rohan riders.
>>>>>>>>>> Magic has no power over the human heart." / @hauntsher <<<<<<<<<<<
there is something akin to arrogance upon features , perhaps fear or even more dangerous PRIDE.
' you speak in riddles ... ' he does not turn away from the night sky , pragmatic as always in the way he addresses those whom he does not know. ' it is magic that swayed men .... perhaps greed that devoured their hearts and rotted the goodness of what could be ' the amount of bloodshed he has seen is numerous , the voices of his men calling out for their mothers is a sound that haunts. ' how do we defeat such a thing ? --- their numbers are vast , and this forrest is a shadow of what it once was .... ' saruman has pledged his loyalty.
' the end .... ' he pauses as the wind picks up ever so slightly , ' i see it coming more clearly than ever before ---- the men of gondor are tired , and i fear i have little to offer in hope '
