Belegos and Danel rode silently back to the Valley. The elf sat atop his mount, Celegsûl, with his hood drawn up and his shoulders hunched slightly. As the pair wound their way down from the dell they had sheltered in the previous night, they drew closer to the morning mist that had not yet burned away from the Valley. The sounds of the Hidden Vale of Imladris were enough to ease the last vestiges of tension from Belegos and he drew himself up straighter in his saddle and his singular grip on the reins relaxed. The horses’ hooves clipped on the wet stones, a lone bird let out a morning call, eager to start the day, and somewhere close-by, the rush of water from one of the many falls that flowed down from the surrounding mountains could be heard.
The track the two elves followed was only wide enough for one rider to traverse at a time and so Danel rode behind. From time to time she would look to the mountains and their natural wonder. The fir-laden valley slopes were interspersed with purple heathers and deep blue gentians with their star-shaped petals and were truly beautiful. Danel could see that part of the Elder Days still lingered here and it brought some sense of reassuring peace, though not in quantity enough to distract her entirely, for her eyes ever returned to the back of her companion. His familiar forest green travel garments swayed gently with the movements of his steed. Had he looked back, he would have seen a slight furrow of her brow as she mulled him over. It had been a night of minor revelation for her regarding her friend and now it felt different. She felt different, somehow, but did not quite know how just yet.
He could feel her eyes on him, boring into his back as they continued on. There we have it, he thought. He had revealed his faithlessness to her and now she was judging him for it. He dearly hoped that the night’s events had not damaged their relationship for good, but she asked, and he told her. It was the least he could do for her. He did not desire to keep anything more from her but would finish his tale in due time.
It was no grand epic of valour in combat such as Estarfin could recite, neither had his been a life of crafting or creating. He had just been a guard, no more. Yet even that now was but a small part of his time on Middle Earth. He allowed himself a small chuckle. So often when he talked to others, he thought of himself of old, even among the Eldar, yet to those of Aman who had been born under the light of the trees he was but a stripling. They had remained in Valinor, and for the most part, had not troubled themselves with the lands they had once left long ago. Belegos liked to think that this had made them soft – that he had some measure of wisdom after these years of fighting and struggle that they had not, yet he knew that he was likely fooling himself. The Noldor were mighty, it was true, even among elves, but the Vanyar mightier still. One day he would see them for himself. He would take the ship eventually after his hardships were finished. He had always pictured himself setting foot on one of those grey vessels alone but ready to meet those who he had been sundered from for so long, though in recent times his heart had told him different. He so far had been able to ignore its ever more frequent calling, but he had wondered for how much longer he could keep his thoughts private.
The sun began to crest above the Valley ridge and more birds began to sing in the boughs. Celegsûl tossed his head and flared his nostrils as a pleasant breeze blew.
Whatever happened, Belegos would rest well tonight. He felt that part of the weight he had carried for so long was lifted. Not wholly so, but lighter nonetheless, and he would always hold her dear for that.
