[Sophia the Thunder Mistress]

Marsilion rose early, refreshed by the soft bed and saftey of Rivendell. His pack had been emptied and the contents were neatly arranged on the long table under his window. Elves, he guessed, had been in during the night. He touched his clothes. They had been washed and mended, his knife was sharpened, and the rips in his pack were patched. He smiled as he donned the fresh clothes and rinsed his face in the basin.

Once he was dressed Marsilion carefully replaced his supplies in his pack. Anson and Anduneriel would be anxious to be leaving, he knew. Hefting his pack onto his shoulders he made his way to breakfast.

The ranger ate quickly, pausing to speak to several of the Elves that were known to him. One in particular, a tall pale woman with golden hair, pulled him aside. "Marsilion!" she whispered. He turned and looked at her, this was Glorenwen, wife of Calimir. "Go swifly my friend," she whispered. "The scouts have returned in the night, and they say the disease is spreading, north and east... There is hunger in your homeland, I know what my husband told you, he tells less than the truth. Your people on the Mitheithel have little resources left. Lord Elrond will summon them here in great need, but Rivendell is not limitless either. The need is dire." Marsilion gripped her hands.

"We know the need." he told her. "the halflings and the folk of Bree face a need greater than my own. There is no Imladris for them... no safe shelter to seek for a while. We will be swift."

As the two spoke Calimir came up behind his wife. "She tells you more than I did, I see..." he spoke softly. "Lord Elrond will speak to your group before you go, Marsilion. Take this with you." Glorenwen pulled out a small dagger, sheathed, and handed it to Marsilion. "It is not special, nor does it carry any virtue but our friendship, but we guess you will have use of it before this quest is done."

Marsilion took the dagger by the hilt. A green gem was set in the pommel. He slid the blade from its sheath, it gleamed at him dully, the blade was traced all along its length with engravings of stars and trees. "Calimir, this is beautiful!"

"It was my father's" Glorenwen said softly, "he called it Dolenaur-- hidden flame. Take it."

Marsilion threaded the small sheath onto his belt beside his sword. "Thank you both." he said to them. The three said goodbyes quickly, as the morning was growing old, and Marsilion hurried to find Anson and the others.