Belegos

The shrill cry of a hawk pierces the cold morning air before the bird itself comes into view. It is dark brown with a golden beak, and it begins to circle lower and lower, down from the mountain peaks. Finally, with hardly a sound it lands nearby, a thin roll of parchment clasped in one clawed foot.

Suilad Lady Danel,

Elloen woke up early, since he could not sleep well. He was lying uncomfortably on the ground as others around him prepared for the departure, and he rose up. Danel seemed still concerned about Estarfin, as was Elloen. Except for a one strange answer Estarfin already seemed to have a clear mind, though he would not have anything to drink or eat.

“Why is Rainith not with us?" Estarfin asked Danel again.

Did this blockhead not understand anything? wondered Parnard. He spread his embroidery out before him and lifted up his wineskin. “Ai!” he gasped.

“What is it?” said Danel.

She opened her eyes slowly, her eyelids heavy with a stupor left behind the onslaught of anxiety and panic. The shadow passed away into the edges of her vision until they withdrew completely, leaving a tall figure standing before her. She found her image of Mandos as valiant and beautiful as she could have imagined a Valar to be, but she did not understand why he dressed himself in battle-worn clothes and bleeding wounds upon his face. Perhaps Mandos robed himself in death.

“What is your name?” he asked gently.

The dusk had arrived and Elloen was camping with the others at the Redhorn gate. He looked at his companions while he laid himself down, waiting for the sleep to arrive.

He looked at Rainith and her bare feet, which now were at the level of his eyes. A faint smile got in his lips because she was always thus which made her seem very casual to him, but now they were at the root of Caradhras, and she would have to lay her feet on the snow. Elloen felt a bit silly that he didn't bring any spare pair of shoes.

Estarfin sat with his back resting against the holly tree as he wrote feverishly. The quill was almost a blur as it scratched almost illegible Tengwar script onto the pale parchment. His face was in shadow under the bright moonlight as he had pulled his hood to cover his hair and wrapped his thick black cloak about himself. Occasionally he paused and re-read the words that he had written, a look of confusion upon his face as he quickly crossed out whole sections of the text. He would then stare at one of the others, waiting for them to look at him before looking away quickly.

The moon was setting behind the hollies and the figure of Belegos could be seen stalking the shadows underneath the trees. He was a clever tracker, Parnard admitted, but he would prove his true worth when they reached the black mires and the ravines of the southern Greenwood. As Parnard continued gazing at him, he began to wonder if the scout really was as old as he had been told.

Rainith and Belegos are mighty frank and familiar towards each other; they seem as old friends reunited. I sit by the fire, a little apart from the company, waiting for this accursed haunch to finish cooking. The spit is set too high over the flames, but these burn so hot that to roast the meat any closer will char it.

It began with barely a whisper – a trail of smoke unfurling across the sky, rising from outside the walls of the city, where they now stood.

Alassien broke off her conversation with Belfaer to point, wondering aloud, “What's that?” Maltariel leaned across Orien to see, looking in confusion at the smoke, a cold finger of dread uncoiling inside her.

Continued from Blood in Eregion