Among those waiting for the arrival of the Elven-Host was Arthain, a warrior mighty in arms, close to the ear of Isildur himself. As he looked out over the land, he watched for a certain banner, for beneath that banner rode his friend Melost, an Elf of surpassing skill with the bow and messenger of the High King. Too long it had been since they had last sat together, telling tales by a fireside, Arthain prodding Melost for more details of the West. Beside him as always rode his shadow, Thelian, Melost's close kinsman and shield-bearer.
As he strained his eyes, At last! There it was! Gil-Galad's banner and Melost proudly bearing it up the slope to the fortress, announcing the High-King's arrival in a clear, ringing voice. Arthain turned and ran to greet him...
Upon seeing Arthain, Melost mingled his pure, clear tenor with Arthain's resonant baritone...
O menel aglar elenath
Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!
Arthain looked at the Elf in wonder, for in all the long years of their friendship he had never heard him sing. "Mellon, why have you never sung with me before? Your voice has such purity!" Melost gazed at him, a wry grin on his face. "One must never reveal all one's gifts. How ordinary I would appear in your eyes if I couldn't amaze you now and again." He stood gracefully, stretching his legs. "Ai! I am used to travelling afoot! Light-footed though she is, my Estel has tried my muscles this day!" He looked up into the star-dusted sky and broke into a radiant smile. "Arthain! Behold Menelmacar as he strides among the stars."
Long he stood, gazing upward, lost in the beauty of the sable night. Arthain shifted, moving nearer the fire. He was used to Melost's reveries. In time they would resume their conversation...
[ March 12, 2003: Message edited by: Cuthalion ]
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