The horse Celegnaith had carried Pelliriel out of the Eryn Lasgalen at the outset of her message-bearing journey, then Southward through the Gap of Rohan, and all the way back up to Rivendell. But still he continued on, seemingly tireless, needing only to rest for an occasional snack (generally apples, of varying quality).

The company looked at the door to the stairs upward, the sounds of movement filtering down to the basement clinic. Listening closely, Finchley could make out at least four voices, one of them certainly being Ane, Nethrida’s sister, now Mans’ latest host.

The fire crackled loudly in the peaceful night. From what Arrvelas could tell, everyone else had gone off to rest for the night. There was no more chatter, no more sounds of footsteps. Only the fire.