[Belin]

Hithduiniel was attempting to master an art she had never before considered: silence. She rode slightly behind the others, listening to their talk. She understood almost nothing, since Himelilek was no longer translating for her. But she wanted to understand. She wanted something, some word, some clue as to where they were going. But they were a group of two men and one fairly fluent elf, and they didn't randomly lapse into talk she could understand.

It began delicately to darken. Hithduiniel was watching the sky with some eagerness. When they camped, everything would come out. It always did in the stories.

The two men had finally lapsed into silence. They had not been shouting at each other, but their voices had held some tension that was probably related to the departure of the fox-boy. It was Himelilek who finally broke in, with a wave of her hand for which Hithduiniel had great hopes.

The men barked at her. She answered, subduing them, but they continued to ride. Hithduiniel, with great effort, held her tongue.

She was rewarded. Himelilek had taken to occasional muttering in Sindarin, her native language, when she had things to say that were, well, not for public ears. She fell back on the habit now, forgetting Hithduiniel.

"Fool men and fool stones," she muttered, "if the Silmaril isn't what they say it is...."

Hithduiniel sat stunned. The horse, uncooperative as ever, slowed hopefully.

Thorondruin, of course, noticed and looked back at her. "Well?" he said. For the first time since he'd met her, all look of mockery had disappeared from Hithduiniel's face. Her lips moved slightly, but she didn't speak.

"What's wrong with her?" he demanded of Himelilek. She shrugged.

"The stones that draw madness," said Hithduiniel. Himelilek did not translate.

"What's she saying?"

"She's raving. Don't worry about it."

Hithduiniel closed her eyes, trying to remember what she'd heard. "Fast through the forest they found their way, noble and noted, princes of Noldor. Terrible they are to tell, the tales of the mighty, but now what I know: friendship they sought not." She shuddered.

"She's raving? What do you mean, she's raving? We've picked up a lunatic?" Ozracles's voice grew louder. Clearly, his quest was doomed always to be burdened by one fool after another.

"I think she's probably tired," answered Himelilek shortly. "What did I say about camping?"

"You're fools; they'll kill you, they kill everybody. Do you not know this?" Hithduiniel's alarm spoke through her dislike.

"Does she have to talk at all, Himelilek?" put in Thorondruin.

"Can we camp soon?"

"Fine. One hour."

Himelilek spoke quickly to Hithduiniel, strongly advising silence, and silence she got.