[Child of the 7th Age]

Andreth slid out from her bedroll and walked gingerly over to the edge of the campsite where the Elf lay quietly on the ground, his eyes wide open, staring out into the darkness. She could not get the words out of her head that he had spoken to her earlier that evening. How his face had glowed when he spoke of the Silmarils and the fair maiden Gilwen with the starlight in her hair. It was as if he had been another being completely, one far removed from the tormented soul who now raged and ranted at his companions.

She had heard his anguished cries from the other side of the campsite, and had even made out some of the tormented words he'd spit out in the agitation of his sleep as well as the wisdom and comfort that Gandalf had tried to offer him. And a small bit of it had touched her heart. For she too had dreams that wrenched her soul. At the beginning of this journey, she had pledged to undertake this matter out of respect for her father. For the tales had said a son or daughter must be sent rather than one full grown. But now it had gone beyond that. It was her own wish as well.

As they came closer to the Castle, her visions were becoming ever more vivid. It was almost as if someone inside was reaching out to pull her in with them. A shudder ran through her body. Andreth felt there would be no rest for her until her kin and their household could find some glimmer of peace.

Uncertain what to do, or how she could help the Elf, she went over to the brook nearby and drew a flagon of clear water. The brook babbled with sweetness, holding waters cold and sparkling. I have heard, Andreth thought, that goodness lies in water, and the spirit of Ulmo rests over all such places, especially for those in dire need. May it be so in the simple cup I offer him.

Andreth walked up to Nardol and knelt by his side. She held out her hand with the cup of water. "You are troubled, and I can do little. Much that you say I can not even understand. But even a Child of Man can sense sadness, and feel some desire to help. Here, drink this, for you are hot and restless."

Nardol sat up and accepted the cup, and softly whispered his thanks, but said nothing else.

"I do not know what great matter keeps you here, instead of following the one you love. But you must be an Elf of great honor to stay here when this world brings you such torment."

"I am but a mortal, but if there is anything I may do or say to help you, I will try. Your words have touched my heart. Perhaps this is because I too have a deed that draws me on, and visions that come unbidden in the night. My own tale is brief and lacks the depth or torment of yours, but still it tugs at my heart as we journey closer to the Castle."

Andreth hesitated. She was truly afraid to say anything else, as she did not think Nardol would approve of her or her kin. But she did not wish to deceive him. She found herself spilling out her story to the silent figure on the ground, hoping for someone to hear and understand.

"Those folk in the Castle are my kin. My father is the last descendent of Adela's older brother. Do not say you do not approve of the union. To be truthful, I too feel they would have done better to take an easier path in life, and stick with their own folk. But I can not change that. Nor can I turn away when they come to visit me in the night with their tears and torment."

Andreth began to cry, "We have letters, letters from Maladil to his wife. They are personal things, of no use for this quest, but they are filled with love. One time he was different. And the children suffer so."

"I know this is but a small matter to one of your lineage who has seen so many things of great import. But could you find it in your heart to help us? Your body is here on the quest. I ask for a piece of your heart as well. And if there is any small thing that my family or I can do to help you find your way homeward or to fulfill the doom that awaits you, we will gladly do so."

Andreth hunched herself into a small, miserable ball on the ground, wondering if she should have said anything, and whether or not Nardol himself had a son or daughter somewhere which would perhaps soften his heart. But she was not at all certain. She waited for the Elf to send her away with sharp words of disdain.

[ January 05, 2003: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]