[Imladris]

Maethor watched Rauthain depart and sighed inwardly -- and shuddered. Kaldir...Maethor had heard the story before, but it was still unsettling. He continued to play with his soup, broodingly, as his thoughts turned to what he had said to the other aged ranger, Rauthain. Frowning, Maethor tried to analize what it was he had felt. It was as if a shadow had thrown itself over the sun, he thought slowly. He nodded. Yes, that is what it had felt like.

Maethor sighed and wished that he spoke as well as he wrote. When he wrote, the words flowed from his pen easily, and he wrote what he meant. But when he spoke, the words he used were clumsy, ungainly, and awkward.

Rising, he said to Hanasian, "I will return shortly. Nair...I must see if he is comfortable." A smile crept into Maethor's eyes as he spoke of his stallion. Nair was a noble beast and Maethor glowed with modest pride as he thought that he had indeed trained the spirited stallion well. Crossing to the stables, he saw that the trough was full of fresh water and that the manger was full of oats. Rubbing Nair behind the ears, he whispered a song he was composing into the patient ears of Nair.