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‘Close your minds, Taitheneb, Erebemlin. All of you; close your thoughts, even to one another.’
The time had gone by slowly since the warning made by Amroth. The passionate travelers rode ever on towards a destination unknown to Bellyn, who was still confused by the words of her companion.
Close my mind? She wondered, biting her lip though she’d had long hours to contemplate the words. How am I ever going to do that? The idea seemed rather absurd to Bellyn, who had no idea how to accomplish such a task. Is my mind like a door? To be opened and shut at will by any who seek to read my thoughts?
Lost in her thoughts, Bellyn swayed and shifted in her saddle. Argeleafa spoke a word to her, but was hushed immediately. Bellyn felt badly for Argeleafa, and shrugged in Erebemlin’s direction at seeing Argeleafa’s hurt face. The seriousness of the ride, when combined with the long, sleepless hours did not help anyone’s mood. Bellyn squeezed her eyes shut, then wiped away the tears accumulated from yawning.
Like weathered trees that had long since grown roots to face the merciless wind, expressions on the Elves remained stony and rough. Dawn did not bring comfort or relief from the harsh night, and it seemed as if hope drifted farther away with every hour spent riding across the land. There seemed no intention of stopping from anyone in the group.
Bellyn dare not speak for fear of Erebemlin’s wrath, but the awkward silence of it all made her want to scream.
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