Son of the Evening Star

[Varnafindë]

Late as it was, Rameldir still didn't feel ready to settle down to sleep right away. The conversation with Elrond had been less than a success - much less. He had made it clear that he didn't think he could take Elrond's place in Imladris, hadn't he? Or hadn't he made it clear enough after all?

And how much did the memories of Eärendil - or Elrond's lack of them - have to do with it all? There was something there that he was only beginning to understand, but he supposed he understood a little more after tonight than he had done earlier ...

At the end they had begun to talk about things that made them both uneasy, though. Strangely, that had eased the conversation. Those were things of the present, things that might be an actual danger, not just uneasy feelings from the past. And this darkness in the east - yes, it was wise of Elrond to seek Galadriel's advice.

Ramedlir sighed and decided to sit down with a book for a while before going to bed. There was a book he had recently found in the library and only looked at briefly. He would read a couple more pages now - it was a highly philosophical work, to give him much work for thoughts, so he only read it a little at a time.

It was about a converse that his great-grand-uncle Finrod had had with a mortal woman - a wise-woman. They were talking about what legends the mortals had about their past, and about the nature of evil - or rather of the nature of the relationship the mortals had had with the Evil One, the Enemy, Morgoth. The wise-woman didn't seem willing to give any details, just sweeping generalisations - unless she was about to do so in the next pages. He would see soon.

Before she had revealed any of those details, though, he was interrupted by a soft knock on his door. He went to open it.

Elrond was outside.