Mellondu paced steadily as an hour passed, and then two.
Nethwador sat down, closed his eyes, and waited. As the twilight descended, he felt, rather than saw three tall golden haired elves shimmering under the stars.
One stood, quiet, with a strong hope. One lay resting, wearily determined. Deep within the third, what had long smouldered, now burned brightly.
Nethwador hugged his knees to his chest, and squeezed his eyes shut tighter. On the edge of his mind shimmered the golden joy Nethwador had long missed.
He opened his eyes, and looked over at Mellondu pacing. There he saw no change. But on the face of the tall golden elf, was a new peace.
He closed his eyes again. He would wait.
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