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alaklondewen · 06-12-2006, 08:15 PM

Erebemlin looked into the small house and into the uncertain faces of the young mortals. His eyes followed the blacksmith’s mother and sister into the back of the home and then flitted back to the group of travelers who watched him questioningly.

Young Bellyn stepped forward, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. “Pardon, my lord,” she paused, looking down at her hands, then gazing up into the face of the Elf towering over her. “What is going to happen?” Turning over her shoulder, she searched the faces of her companions for support. “Will the quest be finished? Will we find ever Nimrodel or will this be the end of our journey?”

The Elf pursed his lips, unsure of the response he should give the young woman. He breathed in deeply, flaring his nostrils. Choosing his words carefully, he began, “I am not certain of the outcome, my lady. I do not understand the thoughts and actions of mortals, but…” Erebemlin stopped, furrowing his brows as his eyes alternated back and forth between Bellyn’s sparkling, hope-filled eyes. “But I have hope, my lady.” It was difficult to say what hope Erebemlin had. Was it hope for the return of his king, or hope that a young blacksmith would realize his destiny and choose to defend his honor, whatever that was to a foolish boy. The Elf was uncomfortable trusting the boy to make the right and honorable decision. Amroth’s flame was still within him, however buried. The boy had to feel it, but why could he not surrender to it?

06-12-2006, 08:15 PM	#706
alaklondewen Song of Seregon Join Date: Feb 2002 Location: Following the road less traveled Posts: 1,193	Erebemlin Erebemlin looked into the small house and into the uncertain faces of the young mortals. His eyes followed the blacksmith’s mother and sister into the back of the home and then flitted back to the group of travelers who watched him questioningly. Young Bellyn stepped forward, fiddling with her fingers anxiously. “Pardon, my lord,” she paused, looking down at her hands, then gazing up into the face of the Elf towering over her. “What is going to happen?” Turning over her shoulder, she searched the faces of her companions for support. “Will the quest be finished? Will we find ever Nimrodel or will this be the end of our journey?” The Elf pursed his lips, unsure of the response he should give the young woman. He breathed in deeply, flaring his nostrils. Choosing his words carefully, he began, “I am not certain of the outcome, my lady. I do not understand the thoughts and actions of mortals, but…” Erebemlin stopped, furrowing his brows as his eyes alternated back and forth between Bellyn’s sparkling, hope-filled eyes. “But I have hope, my lady.” It was difficult to say what hope Erebemlin had. Was it hope for the return of his king, or hope that a young blacksmith would realize his destiny and choose to defend his honor, whatever that was to a foolish boy. The Elf was uncomfortable trusting the boy to make the right and honorable decision. Amroth’s flame was still within him, however buried. The boy had to feel it, but why could he not surrender to it?