[mark12_30]

Let the mortals deal with-- and for-- the mortals. Taitheneb, I need you here now.

Yes, Silmaethor. A ripple seemed to go through the group as Taitheneb's thoughts narrowed to Erebemlin alone. He rode to his side.

Erebemlin held Amroth tightly. Do not leave us. Do not leave us. Wait.

...Silmaethor? Taitheneb waited; watching Erebemlin, but no orders came. Hesitantly, he reached for Amroth's brow, and closed his eyes.

Twilight surrounded him; the air was warm but stale. He walked in the greyness, searching. He found, not Amroth, but Mellondu, struggling down a dark path. As he approached, the boy faltered, and fell to his knees.

My sister. I am weary. All is dark. Where is my sister?

She yet lives. Courage! Taitheneb knelt beside him.

So weary. Why... Why did he do this?

Taitheneb grieved at the boy's sadness. One day you will know.

Nay, Taitheneb, I know now that he would not rest in his search. But... I do not.... understand.

Follow me. I will lead you back. Taitheneb offered the boy his hand.

But I am... weary. Tired. Mellondu's hands found the grey grass, and he lay down and then he looked at his empty hands.

Do not yeild to despair.

Why not? It is something to hold.

Your sister needs you.

Lightlove yet lives?

Yes, thought Taitheneb, silently thanking Raefindan that it was true. She lives, Mellon, she lives. Come. We will return to her as soon as we may.

Take good care of her. The boy began to fade.

"No!" cried Taitheneb aloud. "No, Mellon!"

Dark... Dark... Tired...

Erebemlin joined them, tall and shining. Taitheneb's hopes rose for a moment; but the boy turned from the bright elf saying, No more of this. No more of you and your king.

Hear me, boy, said Erebemlin, and his thoughts rang like steel. Stand. Do not yield. Stand!

It is too late.

Do not yield! Stand! Stand!

Mellondu laughed, a weary grunting rasp.

Erebemlin's face grew pensive, and he came closer, speaking softly now. You have hidden my king. You have free will, and so you have decreed, young mortal. I would that you had not done so.

You do not think it wise, Mellondu replied.

Erebemlin dropped his gaze, and was silent. Despair prowled at the edges of Taitheneb's mind. He could hear Erebemlin's heartbeat, and his own heartbeat, but the boy's was fading.

Do not yield to despair, Taitheneb said to the boy.

I want to, replied the boy.

Erebemlin knelt and took the boy's face in his hands.

If you leave Middle-Earth, other hearts beside the king's will also break. Do not leave us.

I am not a horse to be ridden, replied Mellondu.

No, said Erebemlin. There was a long pause before Erebemlin spoke again. No. What you say is true. But now, little mortal... Mellon--

Were Silmaethor's eyes glistening? The mighty warrior dropped his gaze, and bowed til his forehead softly touched the boy's.

Mellondu, you are our only hope. Do not fail us. Do not fail me.

Taitheneb held his breath, and then softly added, Nor your sister.

Mellondu spoke no word, but put one hand on Erebemlin's forearm. Silmaethor straightened, and for a moment all was still. Then Silmaethor lifted the boy like a child, turned, and quietly carried him out of the shadows; Taitheneb followed.

Their eyes opened. They wondered what had happened around them, but for the moment they hardly cared; somewhere, deep within the boy, their king was still with them. Yet there was someething different, too, about the way Silmaethor held the boy. Taitheneb kept silent, and enjoyed watching Mellondu slowly open his eyes.