*Bonder* *Hatchling* *Sr.fledgling* *Adult* *Catena Island*

*Star of mercy,
Star of light,
Guide my way
Through darkest night
*May your blessings
Come and stay
Star of mercy
Guide my way*

*Dínorel peered up through pale green leaves. Above the stars were shining brightly. He automatically sought Gil-Estel, the brightest star in the sky. It twinkled almost directly over head in the frosty heavens. Dínorel turned his frosty blue eyes to the courtyard around him. The garden was well kept. The fragrance of the blooming niphredil filled the air. A row of the pale blossoms lined the western wall. The ground was cold under Dínorel's feet for he was only wearing light slippers. A dark stone path lead back to the house and Dínorel followed it slowly. Reaching the heavy oak door he turned, his pale blue eyes looking out once more before he entered.

The room was silent. Only the creak of the door was heard as Dínorel pulled it shut. He walked over to the large fire place. The delicate scent of the niphredil had vanished. Replacing it was a strong smell of smoke and burning evergreen. He wove his way around the few chairs gathered around the fireplace and crouched down in front of the blaze.

Rummaging through his pack, Dínorel checked to make sure his things were all there. There was a knock at the door. Dínorel felt every muscle in his long body tighten as his senses went on full alert. He stood and silently moved towards the door. Another knock. Dínorel slipped the dagger hanging on his belt out of its sheath and moved to open the door.

"Dínorel! For goodness sake, let me in! I know you're in there."

Dínorel let out a sigh of relief when he heard the sound of Aldanur's voice. Quickly opening the door he hurried his friend in.

"Well, it's about time," the plump man said in a huff. "Do you thing I have the fur of a draug? Keeping me standing at your door, "The man gave a snort. "I helped build most of this house. Including the fence around the court yard and the barn! And what is that for? Do you not only plan to freeze me, but gut me as well?!"

Dínorel quickly slipped the dagger back into its dark leather sheath. "You know I would do no such thing, dear friend," Dínorel said with a smile. Then, after shutting the door, offered Aldanur a chair next to the fire.

"So you're going through with it then," Aldanur said spotting the pack. Inspite of the man's plump, almost docile appearance his eyes were still as sharp as his mind.

"I have to go," Dínorel replied.

"Are you sure this isn't all in your mind, dear boy? It's only been two weeks since your father died."

"No, I'm not at all sure. But I have to go. Of that I am certain. My instincts have never failed me. I have never felt them so strongly before. This has nothing to do with my father's death, or it has everything to do with it. I am not yet sure," he paused for a moment in thought, then continued. "This is not sudden, Aldanur. I've felt danger growing steadily in my mind. I can not ignore it any longer."

Aldanur sighed. "If that is your choice. I can not hinder you. It will not be the same around here. Hopefully quieter! It should be, without you to cause mischief!"

Dínorel smiled at the old man. His friend and mentor. "If you could watch the grounds for me, that is all I could ask of you."

"Dinorel, I have been loyal to your father since he and I were boys. I will not fail his son now."

Dínore lgave him a thankful smile and lifted his father's traveling cloak from its nail next to the door. He swung it over his shoulders and fastened the broach securely. Glancing down at the four pointed star, his family's emblem, he adjusted it so the points were straight. He took the necklace of his mother: a delicate silver chain with a simple tear shaped jewel hanging from it. He tucked this in under his shirt. Though the diamond was hard and sharp against his skin he wanted to keep one of the only things he could remember of his mother safe. He heard Aldanur chuckle softly and turned.

"You know," the man said with a grim smile. "You look just like your father. All dressed up like that." Then his voice changed to a lighter tone. "Except, of coarse, for your eyes. Those are all your mother! He was so enchanted with her. I remember him just sitting and staring, a tender little smile on his face. I could tell he was thinking of her. Yes, Wilwarin was his heart's delight. He was never the same after she died. I think he would have followed her even in death if it hadn't been for you."

"Being only four when she died I remember very little of my mother, and even that seems dimmed somehow. But I do remember father's grief. He planted rows and rows of niphredil along the wall and in the yard."

"They were her favorites." Both grew silent remembering things of old. Dínorel stood as still as a tree, staring into the depths of the fire. Finally he stirred. Lifting his pack to his shoulders, he scooped up his walking stick and his bow and quiver.

"I must go. I hope to return as soon as I can. But when that will be...Only Elbereth can tell. Namárië, dear friend." And with that he pulled open the door and stepped out into the night.

"farewell to you, too, boy," Aldanur mumbled to the closed oak door. "farewell to you, too."

*The road is long
The journey far
*The night is dark
But for Gil-Estel star*

*Making his way down the south road, Dínorel stopped at a small trading town. The sun was now just rising over the eastern horizon. The air was still cold with the last traces of winter unwilling to surrender to the spring. A low fog clung to the ground. The town was still in shadow. Even so, a few folk were out and about their morning business. Dínorel noticed shadowy figures moving behind windows and booths.

He wove his way down the streets and alleys. Soon he found a small inn and slipped inside. There were a few men sitting at the bar. Dínorel took his place a little ways apart from them.

Dínorel swept back the hood of his cloak and glanced about. The room was large and fairly empty. Only a few scattered tables and old creaky chairs. He turned back to the bar and waved to attract the bartenders attention.

"Who do I ask about a room?" he asked when he finally got the man's attention.

The man sighed and was about to speak, but something caught his eye. Dínorel glanced down at what the man was looking at. His tear jewel necklace had worked its way out and gleamed brightly against his father's dark green cloak. Dínorel quickly hid the jewel by stuffing it back under his shirt. Something worried him. Something about the way the baretenders attitude changed from indifferent to interested.

"I'm afraid we don't have any rooms right now. But if ya tell me where your' going I cud' point out the closest one," the man offered.

Dínorel eyed him for a moment. "Thank you, but I think I'll find my own place to stay." With that Dínorel turned and walked away from the bar. Glancing over his shoulder he saw the bartender speaking to a greasy sly looking man who sat at the end of the bar. The bartender pointed to his neck and then in Dínorel's direction. Not waiting to see what the other man would do Dínorel slipped out the dour and hurried down the street. Something told him to get out of there fast!

He followed the road that lead out of town. He was nearly to the forest when four black shapes moved out of an alleyway on either side. Dínorel was about to ask what they wanted when all four sprang at once.

Dínorel barely had enough time to draw his dagger and dodge to the right. One of the men sprang again and Dínorel saw the glint of light on his blade. Out of years of training Dínorel brought his own knife up to meet his apponent's. Ducking down, Dínorel sent the man a solid blow to the stomach. He danced away again, but the other three were on him in a flash. Feeling the legitimate fear of death rising within him, Dínorel suppressed it and ducked under another swing feeling his dagger slice through fabric and flesh.

Suddenly one of the men fell to the ground, an arrow through his back. Dínorel had now time to evaluate where the green and brown painted arrow had come from or who had fired it. The other three were distracted by their fallen comrade and Dínorel took advantage of this. He leapt forward, plunging his dagger into the chest of the one closest to the forest. The man fell to the ground with a gurgling cry and Dínorel sprang for the cover of the forest. Ducking just in time to let a knife whiz by his head and imbed itself deeply into a tree trunk.

Dínorel didn't look back he just ran so he never saw the last two men lying on the ground both with green and brown painted arrows protruding from their chests.

*In the woods, tall and fair
In the woods, you'll find him there
*Watching, waiting from afar
He's waiting there, Silent star*

*Dínorel traveled through the thin evergreen forest for nearly a week before meeting another soul. It was easy traveling for him. He was accustom to the forest and its ways. He was beginning to enjoy the solitude and peace of the woods. When eating berries and whatever roots he could find became too bland, Dínorel would hunt down some of the small rabbits. While the feeling of danger had lessened greatly. Dínorel still had this strange feeling of being watched. Of eye just outside of the light of his fire or just over the hill, waiting.

It was almost a relief when a gray hooded man stumbled into the light of his fire. In a flash Dínorel had fitted his bow and bent it, aiming, but not firing, at the man.

"I mean you no harm. I only wish for somewhere out of the night's chill," the man told him when Dínorel asked him his business. The man had thrown back his hood so Dínorel could see his face. His long pale blond hair was tied back with a thong, shining blue eyes studied him calmly from a narrow face.

"You are one of the Eldar," Dínorel said softly, quickly returning the arrow back to his quiver. "I thought all the eleven folk had passed into the west?"

The elf smiled. "Not all of us." Something in his tone made Dínorel cautious.

"Any of the First Born are welcome at my camp, please sit." The elf accepted his invitation and sat down close to the fire folding his long legs under him. "I am Dínorel of Ar-Mard. May I be so bold as to ask your name?"

"My name in your tongue is Golodh, I am of the house of Elenath." He paused for a moment. "So what errand do you have, Silent Star, in the middle of the wilderlands?"

Dínorel was silent in thought for a moment. "You are welcome to my fire, but my errands are my own."

Golodh's smile was almost amused, but mostly satisfied. "You are respectful, but cautious. Good!"

Dínorel was suprised by this response. The Eldar were a mysterious folk. It was said that in their days of glory they had been numerous. Ruling great kingdoms in Ennor and other realms. They were said to be immortal. Roaming the lands for thousands of years almost ignorant of age and death by anything but the sword. As Dínorel could see they were fair to look upon and there seemed to be a glow about Golodh. He couldn't quite explain it, but he had an air of ageless wisdom Dínorel had never encountered before.

A soft sound of singing disturbed Dínorel's thoughts. His eyes, that had wandered heaven ward, glanced about for the source. He was surprised to find that it was Golodh that was singing softly. Now louder. Dínorel found himself caught up in the elvish tune.

A! Elbereth, Gilthoniel
silivren penna míriel
o menel aglar elenath!
Na-chaered palan-díriel
o galadhremmin ennorath
Fanuilos le linnathon
nef aear, si nef aearon!

The music faded and silence again settled into the small clearing. Dínorel stared at Golodh. He knew that song. Hearing it seemed to awaken a long lost memory. The elf smiled as if he knew what Dínorel was thinking. Shifting uneasily, Dínorel returned his attention to cooking his diner.

"She sung that to you when you were just a babe," Golodh said quietly. Dínorel glanced up to meet the deep blue eyes of the elf. "You have her eyes, you know."

"You knew my mother?" Dínorel asked trying not to sound too eager. Gwath had refused to speak of his wife after her death. Dínorel knew almost nothing about her.

A strange smile formed on the elf's face. "I knew her. When the land was at peace and the world was young. I remember her braiding niphredil in long chains and giving them to the children. She was always gentle, in touch and spirit. Our father treasured her greatly."

Dínorel froze. "Why do you say 'our father'?" He asked in a low voice.

Golodh studied him silently for a moment. "I was not surprised when your father fell in love with Wilwarin. But what surprised me was when she fell in love with him. I hoped she would forget him after a while, but..."

"Speak plainly," Dínorel cut in trying to force himself into calmness.

"Silmacil was my father, and he was your mother's as well. She was my sister."

Dínorel stared at him in disbelief. His mother one of the Eldar? How could that be? He began to shake his head. "No, that can't be. You lie."

With speed that no mortal could achieve, Golodh sprang to his feet. Bow in hand he bent it aiming for Dínorel. He had not even seen the quiver or bow hidden in the elf's cloak.

"The only thing that saves you from death is our kinship. But do not call me a liar again!" The elf sat back down setting his bow next to him and slipping his green and brown arrow back into his quiver.

"You shot the men that were attacking me," Dínorel asked cautiously.

"I did. I have been trailing you since you left your house."

"Who were they? And why did they attack me?" Dínorel asked his eagerness for understanding over riding his fear of Golodh.

Golodh sighed. "They were an enemy of your family."

"An enemy of my family. The only enemy of my family is in the south and they are not strong enough to try to oppose us now."

"They are not an enemy of Ar-Mard, your father's house. It is blood from the house of Elenath that they crave. That blood flows through you by your mother."

Dínorel blinked at him for a moment. He hadn't realized before that moment, if his mother was elvish that ment he was half elf! Everything was happening too quickly. Dínorel felt his head swirling with all the new information.

"But why would they attack now? Why not sooner?" he asked beginning to recover from the many shocks of the day.

"You are right to say that your enemies are not strong. The Duath, as we call them, knew of Gwath's death. They also knew that many alliances he had with other houses died with him. Whether it was good or bad that you left your house I cannot say. You had many friends around you there, but they would have come in greater numbers. You escaped just in time. I believe they were planing to strike that night. But when they found you were not there, they scattered as fast as they could to find you."

Dinorels eyes widened. "My friend, Aldanur! I left him in the house. He was to tend it for me while I was away! I must return to help him." He began to pack, but Golodh caught his arm.

"You must not return. Not yet. They will be watching the roads," the elf's town was urgent.

"I cannot abandon my friend!" Dínorel pulled away sharply.

"If he is dead, there is nothing you can do for him."

"And if he is alive!" There was silence for a moment.

"If he is alive, then the best thing you can do for him is lead them away. They do not care for others, only those of the Elenath."

"Once I have done this what will happen? Where will I go, if I cannot return home?" Dínorel looked straight into the immortal's eyes. "What then?"

Golodh sighed. "There is a place where they could never find you. You may even find aid there. But you must trust me and another."

"Where is this place? And who else must I trust?" Dínorel asked.

"It is not of this world, but of another. A world by the name of Alskyr. Great creatures live there. They are not dragons as we think of them, but of a kinder manner. They coexist with our kind as well as others. They even allow others to ride them like a steed! But the relationship between rider and dragon is unique. I met one of them as I was wandering along the Hithaiglir. He told me of the telepathic bond between dragon and rider. In all my long years I have never seen anything like it in all Ennor!"

"But how am I to get to their world? And, for that matter how did they get to ours?" Dínorel asked his thoughts filled with images of great winged creatures.

"That is a very interesting question. I believe I will have a rider explain it to you in greater detail. But what I understand is that they use what they call T-power. But I will speak of it more as we travel."

*Another world, another land
Where different trees and mountains stand
*But I will return another day
Then enemies and foes will sway!*

*"What are we waiting for?" Dínorel asked rather impatiently. They had been traveling for nearly a week following the Hithaiglir north. Golodh had always kept the misty peeks in sight. He learned a great deal from Golodh, though the elf didn't speak much of his own people. Dínorel was delighted to hear whatever he would tell him about his mother. But they had now been waiting for two days and Dínorel was wondering if anything was going to happen.

"Him," Golodh told him pointing behind Dínorel. Dínorel turned to see a large winged creature gliding down towards them. It was beautiful. Large blue wings fanned the air as it back stroked and landed neatly in front of them. A tall man jumped down from the beast's neck and greeted Golodh with a bow.

"Master Golodh! It is a pleasure to see you again. What do you need of me?" The man asked peeling off a tight fitting helmet. He was a handsome man, but Dínorel didn't have time to analyze him for Golodh was pushing him towards the blue dragon.

"Good Jayesson, I am in need of your assistance. This is my nephew, Dínorel. He is in need of protection." Jayesson frowned for a moment. "It is true I do not visit your world much, and I mean no offense, but you do not look like one of the Eldar," he glanced towards Golodh to be sure he had used the right word.

"I do not," Dínorel answered. "My mother was elven, but my father was mortal."

"I see. And Golodh, you wish me to take him back to the Caer for safekeeping, yes?"

"If you and your Tioleth would not mind."

As Golodh and Jayesson talked Dínorel became aware of the blue dragon studying him curiously. The large slanted eyes focusing in on him. Then the creature turned to his rider. Dínorel had the strangest sensation. A whisper too distant to hear, but there none the less, passed through his mind. Jayesson glanced up at his dragon and back to Dínorel.

"Tioleth seems to think you would make a good bonder," the rider said with a chuckle.

"Bonder?" Dínorel asked raising his eyebrows in surprise.

Golodh leaned toward him and whispered. "I told you you may find aid there," then he spoke louder so the dragon and rider could hear. "You must go quickly. We have tarried here too long already. Namárië, Silent Star, tir Gil-Estel!"

"What about you, Golodh?" Dínorel asked as Jayesson pulled him up on the blue's neck.

"Me?!" The elf laughed. "I have survived the Duath for over five hundred years. I will be fine."

Dínorel felt Tioleth's mussels tighten under him and with a thrust they were air born. The land sank away from them and the clouds closed in. He glanced down and saw Golodh far below slipping silently into the woods.

"Namárië, im entuluva," Dínorel said under his breath to unseen enemies. "I shall come again."

Then freezing blackness surrounded him.

*Elf child, wandering far
Where does your path lead, Silent Star?
*Away from home, towards starry skies
Away from home your path now lies*