FicWad

The mountains cast silver shadows, the wind howling in debate with the unyielding stone. The air was chill and sinister, lending no reprieve for sleepy eyes or weary mind. The mountains themselves seemed to change, rearranging themselves so that the path turned back on itself, and one could make no progress. The wind tangled the hair of the lone elf wandering there. His eyes shone, from wind or from suppressed tears. He sank heavily onto a boulder, and, procuring a piece of hard bread, he chewed it halfheartedly. Then, raising his eyes despairingly, he breathed a sigh and a song.