Bellwarden silver And those who wore such

And those who wore such a relic

made under the shade of the beech

when the ship is already loaded and the ropes have been checked twice over

and those who stand in my way are undone before they realise it

Bellwarden silver And those who wore suchThe Bellwarden waits at the corridors edge, its small bell poised at the front of the chain. Light falls across the metal, tracing the quiet loops and twists that hold it fast. It does not move, does not call, but listensevery shadow, every draft, every distant footstep counted and remembered. A signal comes, faint at first, carried on the shift of air. The Bellwarden trembles, then swings, and the bell sounds. Its note is delicate but insistent,