[Amanaduial the archer]

Arthain tightened the girth on his horse one last time, checking everything was in place. He was in mortal fear of making himself look a fool in front of the elves...he stopped, smiling wanly to himself, as he realise the irony of that phrase.

He sighed airily and lightly, trying to calm himself, and outwardly he may have fooled himself into thinking he had managed it; but underneath, the worry and disturbance caused by Isildur's words was still stirring.

If you do not know where that place is, I do not doubt your elven friends can show you the place."
Your elven friends.

In Arthain's mind, those words had become so that he heard them with an even more mocking tone than he was sure his lord had put on. He was just being paranoid...or was he? Shaking his head, he almost laughed to himself. What a fool he had been, thinking these thoughts- what had Melost truly done to deserve these thoughts? Arthain felt guilty for a moment- he had doubted his friend, and he was now convinced that the elf had not deserved it. What does Isildur know of the friendship between Melost and myself?

"Arthain, are you ready?"

Dorlas turned his head quickly, surprised at not having heard his squire. "What?"

Dorlas winced slightly at the sharp noise- the pain in his head had evidently not passed entirely. Arthain rolled his eyes, tutting in an exaggerated way, and grinned at his squire who, a little sheepishly, smiled back. “Aye, I am ready.” Arthain had become more business like now, more brisk, not having the disturbing thoughts troubling him. “And you?”

Dorlas simply nodded. With that, Arthain swung up onto his horse. As they made their way over to the elves where they stood, Arthain spotted Melost, and wondered about the frown on his face- he looked positively miserable. Immediately, Arthain’s stomach tightened- was it indeed Melost who had seen himself and Anwanelme? Was he so angry about it? Dismounting smoothly, he left his horse with Dorlas and went to talk with Melost. But as he was just coming up behind him, his tread carefully quiet (even his feet were trying not to seek an argument), he spotted movement further across- it had been obscured from his view before because of the group of elves who stood here, but now Arthain could see and was amazed- he couldn’t contain a small gasp, even as he laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder. The mounted elves moved with such elegance, moving as one, as if all part of one huge, gleaming, beautiful beast, as if a huge silver dragon had been turned to good and had therefore become this elegant, but still potentially dangerous animal, with such elegance in her scales, and yet in her claws as well. And in front of them, the head of this beast, was Gil-galad, his armour just as splendid as when Arthain had seen it previously.

“Melost, they are incredible!”

Melost had almost jumped under his friend’s touch, but now smiled, although there was such a sadness in his smile that Arthain only began to wonder even more. "Aye, my friend... and you have become Elf-quiet, to slip up on me like that. It is good to have you here. I have something to tell you..."

Melost drew his friend away from where the other elves stood, and Arthain’s concern grew- what was wrong with his friend? The sadness in his eyes made Arthain realise how old he truly was in man years, and all the wisdom, and the burdens, of that time seemed to have suddenly come to rest on the elf. Arthain opened his mouth to ask what was the reason for this terrible sadness, and a smile began to form on his lips as he was about to make a light comment, to try to make his friend smile and to lessen his woe, but Melost began to speak first. "Arthain, this I will tell you, for I can tell no one else and you are dearer than a brother to me."

Arthain’s guilt deepened as he thought of Anwanelme, but Melost pressed on further before he could comment or apologise.

"I have foreseen my death, therefore, it remains to me now to set my life in order."

Death?! Arthain was too shocked to reply for a moment, Words began to form on his lips, to tell Melost not to think such things, to tell him it was just nerves maybe, to tell him everything would be ok…even if these things were lies, Arthain would have gladly told them to his dear friend. But as Melost turned, the tears shining in his eyes glittered suddenly in the sun, and these insubstantial words died on Arthain’s lips before they were even born. He took his friend’s hand, but Melost still continued, fishing in his tunic as he did so. "I cannot marry the Lady Anwanelme, not if it will leave her so soon bereft a husband, therefore when I am dead, return this to her.”

Removing his own hand, he placed an exquisite, inlaid stone in Arthain’s palm in its place. Arthain took in the elegant piece, still too shocked to speak, for he recognised this- it was the stone, given at Anwanelme and Melost’s betrothal, from her to him. Melost had proudly shown it to Arthain when he first told him of his wife-to-be. Arthain’s eyes went up again to Melost’s face, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Tell her that I have treasured it as I treasured the thought of our lives together, but that it is not to be. Say nothing of this to her, I beg you. Let me tell her, for this parting will be a grievous one, I fear."

“…it is not to be…” Not to be? Melost and Anwanelme not to be? The words shocked Arthain deeply- he had never even contemplated that Melost would not marry the woman he so obviously adored. And Anwanelme…Arthain could imagine all too well what she would feel when he, the unlucky messenger, would have to give the stone to her. Despite her frequent coldness, and the circumstances in which their marriage had come about, it was obvious at Anwanelme cared for Melost as deeply as he cared for her. She would be heart broken.

Arthain thought to say all this, to protest, but in Melost’s eyes he once again saw that old, deep sadness. He simply embraced him, clumsily. Many beginnings of sentences welled up to his lips as he did so, and for a moment he simply stood, the possibilities of sentences hanging there as to how, and why, and when…


"These are…” Arthain’s voice seemed croaky when he began, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “These are heavy tidings you have for me this day, old friend. I will honour your request and say nothing to her of this.”

Melost nodded tightly, and smiled at Arthain in his sad way, but seemed relieved anyway that he had got this done. Before Arthain could make enough sense of his confused mind to make a reply to Melost’s thanks, the elf was gone, leaving Arthain to finish readying himself. But Arthain was already ready, and just as well- all he was able to do was stare after his friend, holding in his palm the stone that would break Anwanelme’s heart...

[ June 26, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]