This was not good. Not in any form. First, the heat loving golden son was headed north. His coat shiver and twitched about him. His breath, fogging before his path, and tassled tail usually held out long and curled was wrapped about his flank, trying itself not to freeze. Oh but that was just the beginning. He didn’t know why he had done it. It had been so beautiful, so sweet, and so golden. He had taken a fruit from that nightmare moon tree. Stealing it away to the bank he had hid with it, coveting its sweet aroma, ready to pounce on its assuredly delicious nectar. When he heard a scream from a mare at the tree. Breaking his gaze with his prize the gold looked to see the tree changing. Earth eyes had gone wide with amazement, but also disbelief. Snatch his head back to look at his prize the gold balked and backed away in horror. There, where that beautiful golden fruit had sat was now an eyeball. Roaring out the gold had dashed away from that freak show as quickly as possible. The horror truly of the worst nightmares. But turns out, he knew nothing of real nightmares.

It had begun not far from there. A fly or two had been caught near his head. Strangle. Shaking them away he had continued. The golden had places to be before dawn after all, and besides, if he slept the recent events might have chased it away. Still, even when he persisted to this bone chilling cold more flies were beginning to buzz about him. Snorting and shaking his twin horned head the gold had struggled to rid himself of their irritation but try as he might they would not leave. Now here in the freezing cold they were sounding louder than ever. The gold kept shaking his head, and pausing to scratch about his ears, but still it persisted. It always persisted. He was going crazy, for you see, there were no flies about his head. Not a single one.

At last the gold turned out of the cold sharp wind and into the frozen arch. Even if made of ice its walls and close quarters caused the gold to at last breathe. Walking tenderly the gold can be heard to groan and shook his head vigorously. All around him the flies seemed to multiple and grow in number, but he could see none! At last sees a reflective sheet of ice. Tenderly he walks towards its edge and looks over. None. Not a single one. Golden harks pin back, but the sound is persistent. Wait. That fruit. Head raises sharply and looks back with suspicion to the wind torn world outside. An uneasy face comes to pass over the golden face and he moves to the side of the ice cavern. Limbs seem to fail him, and he lowers with slow unease to the ground and there rests, his mind replaying the last night scene over and over. Earth eyes staring out over his ice walls, looking five million miles away.

The wind outside had died down, yet still the golden lay in the ice castle, flies still sounding invisibly in his ears. Nothing else was happening though. A drip from an ice sickle above, drips on his nose and the golden son flinches away. He seems to return to the place and time. A loud sigh rattles through his cold bones. Mind had gone over all what he had seen in the past few weeks, and now what he feels. The golden was not in a mood to divulge his condition, but it was high time he and his lady speak on this, for she had seen and heard all these passings as well. If Helovia would end soon, best go ahead and get it all sorted out.

Coming out into the valley land before him the golden searched for his lady. He had always preferred to deal with her. They saw the world in the same colors. A long call rang out from the golden. Waiting his licks is lips, they felt slightly cracked. An unease flick of his tail passes. Added to the unease was the absence of his lady. Snorting in the still cold, the gold calls out again, this time for anyone. This matter needed to be discussed, because if the world was going down, Thranduil wanted to be the first to leave.



OOC:: @[Deimos]