[Airerûthiel]

The stranger who had just entered distracted Laitalathion's attention from watching his companion's intricate carvings. She looked tired and dishevelled, as though she had just returned from a long and fruitless journey. He wondered who she was, for she seemed to carry a past that would make for many tales. Her eyes looked haunted, as though she had seen terrible things happen before them and been powerless to prevent those fell deeds.

The half-Elf asked Adanedhel to excuse him for a few moments while he went to get another pitcher of ale for them both. Drawing back his hood to reveal a waterfall of flame-coloured hair and dark blue eyes that seemed almost black, he said, "Another pitcher of ale, if you please."

Suddenly Laitalathion was aware of a white-hot gaze boring into the back of his neck. He turned slowly to see the woman he had invited to drink with him gazing at him from inside Bethberry's office, struck dumb as though he was a ghost from her most terrifying nightmares. "Maikadurion?!" she gasped, and the Gondorian paled instantly. "No, it can't be! You got lost from the main group and weren't seen again...until now." She shook her head. "My mind's playing tricks on me. Just because I lost everything I had in the world doesn't mean I'm going mad too! As sure as my name's Ælfritha, you're a ghost! You can't be real!"

"Cancel my order." Laitalathion's voice was hard and cold, yet retained an air of fear. "I have to step outside for a moment." Not even bothering to meet the woman's eyes, he ran out into the bitterly cold night and flung himself against the wooden walls of the stables, unable to control his tears of anger and hatred at himself for the deeds he had done and would forever be cursed with.