Search as they might, the necromancer had eluded them. ‘Gone like one of his nasty spiders, down some dark hole to crawl away and hide,’ came the voice of one of the guards when Elphir called a halt to their searches. Others of the guards laughed and snickered at this image, until Elphir’s quiet voice cut through their grim mirth. ‘A spider he is, men – and a dangerous one. He does not hide simply to escape us, but to lie in wait until his poisonous fangs can lay low one of us once again.’
It was getting dark, night was full upon the city, and the torches that they carried were burning low. ‘Post sentries at the entrances to the palace from these underground caverns,’ he bade the captains of the city guard who had accompanied him. ‘Let us all get some rest and we will hunt him once again tomorrow.’ Elphir and Bebberyn took their leave of the others and made their way back to Imrahil’s quarters.
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‘Many are the strange chances of the world,’ said Mithrandir, ‘and help oft shall come from the hands of the weak when the Wise falter.’
– Gandalf in: The Silmarillion, 'Of the Rings of Power and the Third Age'
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