Nandutiriel did not need to keep watch over her sleeping comrades -- not even the gentle ones, híril Norliriel and the mysterious Elloen -- for plenty of sentinels with bows, even at night, peered down hawkishly and roamed the stones of Echad Mirobel.
Yet she could no more have rested than she could have flapped her arms and flown like Elloen's beautiful white eagle. Her mind was awhirl.
