[Himaran]

As the somber party neared the looming forms of Sauron's stones, Dwali felt little change in the state of his mental being. Unlike the elf next to him, no voice forced its deceitful words upon him. The Dark Lord was far more cunning than that, and he had chosen a far more effective manner with which to turn him astray. The dwarf looked over at Morgoroth, who was sweating and struggling. [I]What's his problem? Scared? He continued staring for several moments, eventually reaching the conclusion that his previous guess was acurate.

The dwarf's thoughts, however, soon turned from interest to scorn. [i]Elves -- they are rather stern and commanding around those less esteemed than they, but seem to have trouble when it comes to walking by to old stones.[i] Then he caught himself, momentarily realizing his follow. Morgoroth had fought bravely in the tunnels, and had saved Bror's life. Then the darkness returned. [i]Bror! That turncoat, questioning Grash and forming pacts with the elves. The dwarves have to hang together... but he wants friendship with those that would care little if we toppled over and died in this forsaken land. Curse him![i]

"Curse them all!"

The words exploded from his parched mouth, ringing through the silent landscape. But the entire company seemed to be struggling with their own inner demons, and none seemed to even notice the outburst. Then Dwali moved away from the stones, and the spell was lifted; leaving behind a mark that would not easily disappear.