[alaklondewen]

Once Erebemlin saw the young blacksmith was up and moving well on his own, he rose and strode several yards away from the campfire. Closing his eyes, he opened his mind in search of Tharonwe and his captive. He could sense their movement south and wondered how far they would get before this camp would be ready to travel again.

Just as he stepped back to rejoin the other, a voice, a thought, touched his own. Elves, whatever your names are, please care for Aeron in his grief! Erebemlin stopped. This must be surely be the red-haired man. The elf tried to answer his plea. He is in good care. How fare you? Are you safe? But the thought was gone, and Erebemlin received no reply.

Turning, the elf slowly walked back to the fire, wondering at the thoughtful and selfless words of the man. He asked not for his own safety, the elf thought. What a noble man indeed.