I woke up tired and prey to a dark mood and hint of a fear. The sun was up the sky already. The sword was placed carefully near the furthest inside wall of my small hideout, and the small roof was enough to shelter us both from both the rain a day before and the sun of this morning. I took it and went to the river, to wash my face and hopefully the memory of the one dream I remembered among all shards of reality mixing in my mind.
I splashed my face with hands full of water and ice drops fell on my shoulders and neck as well making me shiver a moment. How was it? I was in the cave where Daelith died, walking towards the bottom of it, for what I do not know, when I heard the unpleasant hissing sound that used to bring tears to my eyes, of pity and hope when he was still alive and of mourning when I remembered it after. The sound seemed real. And coming from behind me..
I turned and saw a shade of what my friend used to be. The scars were gone but he seemed as a fire burnt him, and in pain, wearing still his Hammer uniform, partly torn, his face, grim and lips betraying a deep inner torment. I managed not to cry and called his name, unsure even in dream what to understand of this, how, by what unjust fate he would still suffer so.
He answered whispering my name while looking at his hands covered with gloves. There was an obvious smoke coming out of them and blood dripping wildly from to the floor but they never reaching there.
'You?? Here?? How?? I saw you dead..' I whisper not believing my eyes, not knowing what to do to ease his obvious pain.
'I was expecting you...' he answers. His voice seems tired and I can’t feel any emotion behind the words. ‘But.... what is it over your head…' He points at me and I turn expecting to see something above behind me. There is nothing..
'A curse... greater than many I have seen....'
'What curse? What do you mean? And how come you are here??' I turn. His eyes are now betraying pain and pity.
'You are in a dream…' he whispered then turned so sudden as he was hearing a call. 'I... I must leave.... they... calling .... Turuviel!... beware... the steel... the steel!!'
He vanishes into the light and I wake up calling his name, to stop, to tell me the meaning of this, to tell me how to help him, the strong light of the sun hurting my eyes I opened so fast. I understand Reiven’s torment. So close and unable to help, to understand, to do anything! Was anything true? Was it just a dream coming from worries and from expecting it? Was it one of those –rare- glimpses of forthsigth I had several times before? Will this happen if I return to that place? What did he mean to tell me about the sword? And what curse? And who is calling? And where? I do so understand now Reiven’s tired and haunted looks. I look at the sword and at my clothes, the same I worn on the road back to Falathlorn. I do not even have my bow. Or a horse. And Rivendell is far..
