Lily was so overcome with emotion that began to cry.
"Ah, little one," said Dorain, hugging the girl and laughing, "is there nothing that doesn't make you weep?"
The cold rain had slowed to mist, and the day was lighter, though wet and grey as the company emptied out of the Bridge Fortress through the East Gate and began making their way across the bridge. The sound of the river was deafening from this vantage. The bridge itself was little more than a spume-slick, smooth-worn granite surface with the impeded white-foamed fury of the river on the right and yawning, surging outflow and rushing release of white water on the left. Staring directly ahead provoked un uneasy, uncanny feeling of movement that challenged one's balance. This feeling was greatly exacerbated by the precarious knowledge that the bridge had no rails. Instead, only a small ridge marked the edge of the roadway. On the other side of the river the mountains rose steeply again, and the Road vanished into the Wood immediately on the other side.
Fifty elf riders now rode with the company as they set out, riding in pairs, blue-grey mail bright against the gloom. Anest and Brogan had each been provided with broadswords from the armoury, and they wore these with pride, for they were of fine elven workmanship.