Belfalod was happy to have a break from the tires of the life on the road. Rivendell was a place of rest, and here he felt truly at peace. Although he knew that those abiding here were his enemies, he still made friends will many of the elves there, and soon blended in with the type of social class which existed in that safe haven.
He walked throughout the outer wall, overlooking the ford and the mountains to the east. Fountains and waterfalls were scattered about, and trees; everywhere there was life, intwining with the masonry and forming the sophisticated architecture found in Imladris.
He returned to the main building soon feeling an exhaustion which slowly consumed him. He went back to his room, and threw himself under the covers. Rest, he needed it badly. But he could not sleep. He saw images of the members of the company which he had been ordered to destroy. The friendly figure of Bali, the pain etched into the features of Burzdol as the arrow took him in the back, the anguish on the face of Ani Dao when she saw that her friend had been wounded. He knew that the group had slowly bonded; and deep down he had a creeping feeling that much as the orcs and traps of Galdon Finllo and his warriors had and would set against them, the company of warriors would not be stopped. And, adding to his confusion he was slowly feeling like one of them. He ate and slepted beside them, and had fought with them against a common foe. The man tried to push the thoughts out of his mind. If there was one thing that had been drilled into his mind during his strict training, it had been this.
Fear is not acceptable. Failure is not an option. Treason will ensure your death.
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