between the shadows and the soul - erebor, diplomats

[Crito]

The wall is an unnatural monstrosity looming at the edge of their kingdom.  To Crito and the rest of the Brothers, though, it is as familiar a sight as the mountain horizon.  It is their protector as much as it is a unique landmark.  The couple of years immediately following the recent disaster (two suns blazing across the land, killing the cold familiarity of home) had left them exposed and vulnerable without their barricade.  With their soon-to-be deposed king, he is glad the wall is up and effective once again. As he makes his way towards it, the bay roan feels that overwhelming sense of belonging fill him again.  He has been a hermit the vast majority of his life, and while it is still awkward and unusual to be amongst so many brothers as of late, he knows it is what he is meant for: his responsibility, both familial and personal.  The fact that his blood-brother is back is just the icing on a long-baking cake.  Every day he now wakes invigorated and bright; the years are peeled away and he feels freed from their previous weight.   His eyes are filled with that luster when he reaches the trio.  He looks more like the young diplomat he feels rather than the aged stallion he is.  Even the wind seems less inclined to batter him about as it did when it tumbled across the flat landscape beyond their borders.  Crito smiles at their ever-present general before assessing the mare and yearling.  They smell barely of pine and an acrid, smoky smell he has no point of reference for.  It’s puzzling, and he snorts lightly before adding his own name.  “I’m Crito, pleasure to meet you.”  He bobs his head to the both of them.  If nothing else, he’s the diplomatic counterpoint to Brennen’s firepower.  He doesn’t think they will have need of muscle, but one never knows.  These are strange, uncertain times.  Times when the world can shake beneath your feet and swallow your home or the sky can spit out two suns. ( c r i t o )

reference picture //character info