Vinyalonde

The Master Athradir gave me a staff of yew, and told me to take care of it, for there was a power in it. It seemed to me very ordinary, being nothing more than a plain-looking, rough stick shod with iron on both ends. Later, he observed me dragging it across the flagstones as I walked by. He called me to him, and said that only the stupid would take such a gift and treat it as worthless; but as I told him, the staff is sore heavy, and my arm is tired, for it is unused to carrying such a thing around.

It being a very pleasant day to-day, I ventured out from town after my lesson with the grumpy Master Athradir. I perceive that, by Lord Elrond’s letter, he is now obliged to teach me what he knows, but he is doing so unwillingly and with an ill grace, and he will only tell me bits and pieces of his knowledge. He was mightily surprised to learn that I can read, but he will not lend me any books, and I think he believes me a terribly thick-skulled fool. I care not what he thinks: I shall prove him wrong, and then we will see who is the fool.

I did as Lord Elrond commanded and found my way to the refuge of Celondim. It was not an easy journey, for I lost my shoes and my cloak when I was wading around in a creek looking at a fish. I suspect a bandit stole them. I asked this accursed bird if it saw the thief, but it only chuckled and went back to preening its feathers. It is about as useful as an apple dumpling thrown down a rat-hole, and I wish it would stop following me.

            The world has shrunk to three – I barely remember the crowd of witnesses standing to one side. The full weight of the moment seems to hang above me in the still air - even the wind seems to be holding its breath. Galdorion stands before me, waiting by a huge figure swathed in red fabric. Beside me is Lord Anglachelm, standing silently, an imperious presence – impossible to ignore, even though I am almost afraid to look at his expression as he listens to Galdorion.

 A hand comes down over the sheet I am working on, startling me. Wordlessly, Condir pulls it towards himself, frowning at what he sees.

After a moment that frown turns into his familiar wry smirk, although he says only, “This is not entirely what I expected.”

   I feel as though there is a fog inside my head, and I am suffocated by it. The captain is explaining at great length about the dangers of sending more after the missing scouts, but I barely understand the words he says. The light touch at my arm becomes almost supporting – my friend and mentor, who insisted on accompanying me, gives me a concerned look that I do not register.

“Rainith, if something happened to him, would you do the same? Would you go after him?”

     “Again.”
I grimace, pulling back to stand ready, my sword held out before me. My tormentor grins at me unrepentantly, arms folded across his chest.

Galdorion is gone from the river-bank almost as quickly as he arrives, eagerly seeking out another opportunity to advance himself here. Normally his enthusiasm is infectious, but this afternoon I simply stand where I am and watch him leave, guiltily fingering the letter still concealed in my pocket. If Galdorion received anything from the party that brought this letter he has not mentioned it – unless he has seen Lord Tyelepoma, he may not even know about the news it brings.