[Envinyatar]

‘No, not his mother,’ Ondomirë answered Skald in the common tongue. ‘He asks for his father.’ The young woman’s back was to him, and Ondomirë could feel her discomfort at his presence. ‘In the dim light he mistook me, I think.’

He stooped and picked up the arrow that had dropped to the hut’s floor. Instinctively his fingers ran down the shaft of it, testing its straightness and how well the head was attached. The fletching, too, suffered the scrutiny of his fingers, before he drew near the woman and handed the arrow back to her. ‘M’lady, your arrow. Best you keep it, lest we have need of it and your skill with the bow as we travel on.’ He caught himself, recalling that she was not one of his bowmen to be spoken to so abruptly.

‘Your pardon. I should have given my name and asked yours.’ He nodded toward the Dwarf who was still speaking softly to the child. ‘This is Skald, M’lady. Of Khazad-dum. He and a number of others of his kin offered their services to us in our attempt to reach your city. I am Ondomirë, here with Lord Elrond to see how we might offer aid to our kin. Lord Gil-galad sent us, from Lindon.’ He looked at her grimed, tired face. ‘To our sorrow we arrived too late and with too few to save your city.’

‘We have gathered some who managed to flee from the destruction and are looking for others who might be hiding in these woods from the Orcs and Men. If you will, we can take you to a place of safety along with the others. Something further away from Sauron’s present campaign against us. Will you come? You and your . . . son, is it?’