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Old 04-21-2005, 08:49 PM   #693
littlemanpoet
Itinerant Songster
 
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: The Edge of Faerie
Posts: 7,066
littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Silmaril Raefindan

Roy was quiet again that evening. The others seemed to subdued as well. Maybe it was that Mellondu and Mellonin were missing. In a sense, they were the two reasons the rest of them were together.

The Elves were taciturn to the last of them.

Ravion seemed to have gone into a deep, dark place within himself, having barely bid farewell to Mellonin. It was not lost on Roy that Mellondu was suspicious of the ranger and protective of Mellonin. But that was between the three of them.

Ędegard and Leafa kept close to Liornung and Bellyn, the latter of whom was constantly followed by Nethwador, almost doglike in his devotion to her.

Jorje. Roy missed Jorje. He was a good dog. Some of that dog sense might have come in handy in the last few days.

Liornung was the only one who was not so subdued that he could not raise his voice, and sang them songs well into the night.

Roy excused himself and went to bed.

He was in the sward again. Mithrellas looked up and saw him, and rose from Nimrodel's side as he strode toward her. He had seen Nimrodel sitting there, in the middle of the vale, the last time he had dreamed, but Mithrellas and he had been so intent upon each other that they had let her sit in her absorption. It would be different this time.

"How is she?" he asked.

She put her hand in his, and he was stunned by the contact, remembering afresh their married life together, the days and days of joy beneath the eaves of the forests that grew along the shoulders of the mountains. She shook her head sadly, but the smile did not leave her face.

"She is the same as ever." She looked into his eyes. "What of this Maegeleb you spoke of earlier? Why does he not come here with you?"

"I know not." He had forgotten about that one. Reminded, he was sickened by the thought of Nimrodel with that one. He opened his mouth to speak warning, but the warning died on his lips, for he had forgotten what he was going to say.

She placed her fingers on his lips. "Time enough for that. Come, walk with me, Imrazor."

He wondered that she called him that, and wondered more that he accepted the name so readily now. Why not? She had shown him his face, and it was that of her mate; and that was he. They walked slowly amongst the hemlocks and birches that stood sentry around that vale. Their fresh scent filled him, and became part of her presence with him.


He woke in the morning, having forgotten what had passed in the following moments of his dream, sure that it was good, sorrowful that the memory was lost to him. But for the remainder of that day, the image of her face and hair, the smile of her face and the love in her eyes, did not leave him.
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