Dec 23: Amroth. The wee hours of the night.
Sweat trickled down his skin. Muscles in his arms and face twitched. His breathing came hard and fast.
Erebemlin waited.
"Will you not calm him, Silmaethor?" Taitheneb asked.
Erebemlin shook his head. "He asked for freedom to seek her in his dreams."
Taitheneb hesitated. "Surely he has seen enough, " he said. "The fever-fire burns in him again. He will be weakened."
Erebemlin shook his head. They watched.
Nethwador's mind was wide open, waiting for Amroth to speak to him. But suddenly his head snapped towards Taitheneb. He frowned.
But Taitheneb looked at Erebemlin even as Erebemlin's protective hand came down on Amroth's drenched forehead.
What was that? Nethwador asked.
Taitheneb and Erebemin exchanged glances, and Erebemlin shook his head, and frowned.
Last edited by mark12_30; 08-23-2004 at 10:37 AM.
|