[Undómë]

Teluyaviel! What are you doing?

Telu started as her brother’s thoughts rattled loudly in her mind. Tindomion had come out of the stables, having seen to his and his sister’s horse. And here she was sitting all cozy with a man . . . a Man!

And what are those flowers twined in his shirt and in your hair?

She could almost see the steam pouring from his ears as he tromped toward her and Farael.

I should never have listened to mother! he growled in her thoughts. We should have bound you hand and foot and stowed you away below decks until we were far out to sea.

Telu stood and smoothed down her skirt, her cool grey eyes amused at Tindomion’s demeanor. He was red in the face, an unusual color for an Elf, she thought. Even for him. ‘This is Farael, my friend,’ she spoke aloud, gesturing toward Farael. ‘He kindly offered to walk with me in the fresh air, Tindo. There was an Orc in the Common Room.’

Tindomion looked the Man up and down. He looked harmless enough, he supposed. His hand went out in a proprietary manner toward Telu and drew her near him. ‘Thank you for offering to walk with Teluyaviel, Master Farael. But please don’t let us keep you from our business. I’m free now to take her where she wants to go.’

His sister stood slightly behind Tindo as he spoke to Farael, and she raised her brows at his comments and shook her head. She had enjoyed her small period of time free from her brother’s all too watchful eye. She put her hand lightly on her brother’s arm and stepped a little forward. ‘No need for you to break up our pleasant afternoon, Tindo. Why don’t you join us?’ She smiled brightly at him, her eyes teasing him to say ‘no’ to her.

‘We were talking of “adventures”. And really, neither Farael or I can say we’ve had any. But you were one of Thranduil’s archers; surely you have some stories to tell.’

Her brother had always been quiet on the subject of the War against the Shadow; his thoughts guarded when talk turned to it. She had wondered long about his reticence to speak of it. And even now, as she looked at him expectantly, she could see him harden himself against intrusion.

‘Well, then,’ she went on. ‘Perhaps you would be content to just walk along with us, and listen to our chatter.’ She was about to go on, when she sneezed. Her brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled up as a disgusting scent assailed it.

‘Something stinks! Something close by . . . like dead and rotting meat . . .’