[alaklondewen]

Erebemlin frowned deeply as he pressed his palm to Amroth's drenched forehead. Although the elf had not entered the king’s dreams, he had watched over them, hoping to gather more clues to the whereabouts of Nimrodel. At first the dreams had been dark and dusty, but not as severe as what was to come. The nightmares steadily became wilder, maddening with bitterness, confusion, and rage. As they began to climax, and Taitheneb became concerned about Amroth’s physical well-being, another’s thoughts met and crossed the dreams, and as quickly as it came it shut off like a candle in the wind.

Nethwador’s dark, wide eyes looked to the elves for answers, but they provided none. He had felt a dark presence and was visibly shaken.

Erebemlin raised his eyes from Amroth’s face to meet those of Taitheneb. The elder furrowed his brows and pulled his lips into a straight crease. It came from the south and west, I believe. Taitheneb nodded slowly, but remained silent in his thoughts. Erebemlin looked over the other travelers, who all lay sleeping soundly around the fire. None of them had felt what Nethwador felt, and the elf was glad. Looking back to Amroth, Erebemlin saw the king lay still. His breathing was slower, but his skin still glistened in the moonlight.

Lying back, Erebemlin stretched out his long legs and looked to the stars. Did you sense surprise in the thought? As though the stranger found one he knew.

It is hard to say, Silmaethor. The mind was closed as soon as we crossed it.

Yes, which is very curious, do you not think? Erebemlin rolled onto his side and looked at his companion. One might think he did not wish to be seen. We must keep a closer eye on Amroth’s dreams…we may come across this fleeting mind again.