A gently wind blew through the vale of Imladris, its touch was warm upon the exposed arms of the Captain of Imladris as he stood upon the highest bridge gazing westward towards the Gates of Imladris. The valley was in good order, the guards were as always steadfast to their duty in protecting the vale. The few warbands currently present in Imladris we encamped down by the stables including some of his fellow warriors from his own band. They were gathering to attend the call of Tur Elisbeth.
As he stood there his mind began to relax reminding him how tired his body was since his resting periods had become more troubled with his dreaming. He recalled again the vivid blue eyes riding across the sky like they were searching, calling for something or someone. Was this imagery real or just the work of his imagination he did not know but the more he had them the more they felt more solid, more tangible.
Last night they came once more driving him awake with a start, his mind immediately reaching out like a hand trying to grasp someone who was falling. His own mind trying to offer the confidence he often displayed physically when training the younger warriors of the warband.
He was not sure it made any difference . . . .
His thoughts returned to the vale as the tranquillity of the moment was gone as more of the warband rode into the encampment below. He smiled as his eyes made out the form of the Gondorian Bishrodir who was offering greeting to those who welcomed him as he dismounted. He wondered if the other warriors or his friends had noticed his change in demeanour of late. He was sure Lady Nimlith had noticed perhaps more so due to her empathy with her surroundings.
He would have to ride south soon to Enedwaith to explore the wisdom offered by Elisbeth over the dreamings in an effort to find the answer.
