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Belegorn stood on the grass covered knoll with his eyes closed and allowed the welcoming night breeze to caress his face. Refreshed and thankful, he opened his eyes and marveled at the brightness of the stars and their multitude. The celestial jewels were out in full force that night and they were like countless eyes burning bright in alternating hues of blue and yellow.
They were there to welcome the refugee’s return to the surface. They were there to witness and give testimony to their trials of tribulation under the Blue Mountains and before that.
The gift of the Lady to the Firstborn, mused the man as he continued to gaze serenely at the twinkling lights above him, witless that his lips were curled slightly by the sides of his mouth. The light of stars gave no heat, but on that winter’s night, Belegorn felt warmth like no other in his heart.
And now her Grace shares this gift with us…
A polite clearing of the throat brought Belegorn out from his daze. He smiled when he recognized that his interrupter was the young standard bearer of the regiment for he was glad the latter made it out of the underside also.
“Sorry to disturb you sir,” begun the young man softly, “but Captain Carthor requests your presence at the camp.”
Belegorn nodded his silent approval and turned to follow the young soldier down the mount. He turned and gave the stars, the warmth and the peace he was leaving behind a long reluctant look.
Real life beckoned.
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