[piosenniel]

It was a long way to the mouths of the River Siril. Levanto swam steadily, thinking about all that had happened these last few weeks. He hadn't truly realised the depth of his affection for the elf until they told him she was gone, and he thought never to see her again. Yet, she had come back. But not in the way he needed her.

She had come to him beneath the waves to tell him of her return. They talked long and deeply, and he sought to plead his suit to her. But she turned him gently from that pursuit, saying it was not to be. He asked if there were another, but she did not answer, saying only that she would hold him always in her heart, as she hoped he would do for her. He could not persuade her otherwise.

Yet, still he loved her, and for the love of her he would accomplish the task she had set him.

It was early evening when he entered the river, proper, swimming deep beneath the surface of its waters. In shadows he surfaced, taking in the lay of the area about each bank. He had only seen three or four fishing boats, docked in the port of Nindamos, and only a few smaller craft sailed past him, unseen below, as he worked his way farther up the river. None of these appeared to be patrol boats carrying soldiery when he surfaced to look at them.

The stream stayed deep, though its bank narrowed as he approached the area of the Valley of the Tombs. He surfaced carefully, and saw only a few guards in the area along the perimeter of the caves. Grim men intent on their grim purposes.

Twilight now had given way to approaching darkness. He dove deep beneath the waters and pursued the stream to the tunnel where it entered into the caves. Surfacing silently, he strained his ears and eyes in the gloom, but could discover no sign of hobbits.

He thought to enter the water once more and make his way deep into the caves when a nearby sigh, and the sound of a small pebble striking the water near him made him wary. He slipped further into the shadow and let his sharp senses pick up the source of the sounds.

A husky, young voice sang softly into the night air, accompanied only by the sound of the water splashing over the rocks as it passed down the tunnel.

"Where the depths the sun is drinking
Wild the waves with wind are dancing
Deeply there the tide is pulling
Let it pull your heart to me."

He sang one verse, and then hummed through two others, ending with this refrain -

"Through the tide, the storm, the sky,
Oh, fly, my love, and come to me."

Then the voice stopped, and there was silence, broken only by the occasional pebble idly tossed.

Levanto, taken by the beauty of the poem, and the clear voice which sang it, emerged from the water, and resting on his arms, looked the surprised singer full in the face.

'That was lovely!' he said. 'Quite lovely. Do you know any more?'