[Child of the 7th Age]

Lindir whirled around abruptly and then stared in disbelief. He strained to peer ahead, but could see almost nothing. Only one shadow wavered in the distance, and it was impossible to say with certainty what this grey mist might signify. There was little light still visble within the lofty chamber. The torch had been extinguished, and only a few rays from the outside world had managed to slip inside and follow them down to the far end of the grotto, where they now stood waiting.

"This can not be! You were slain in the heat of battle. All said the same. Long days, I searched for you but could find nothing. I left after that. There was no reason to return. But why do you linger here?" Lindir cried out in desperation to the darkness, but there was no response to his query. His words bounced eerily off the walls of the cave and came back to his own ear again.

Motivated by frustration and the need to know more, the elf pressed forward towards the spot where he had first heard the voice, totally oblivious to the fact that the mounds of bones surrounding them were increasing in size and number....skeletons large and small precariously stacked up, one on top of the other. Despite all that had been said concerning the Diviner since he had landed on this cursed Isle, Lindir had never expected to hear her voice again, at least not on this side of the Sea.

Ahead lay a tunnel, black and foreboding. He stopped for a moment without looking to see if Oremir was still behind him. Then he heard a rustling at the far end of the blackened corridor. Oblivious to common sense, driven by the need to look once more upon the Diviner, he rushed forward at great speed and barely managed to keep his balance amid the ever growing mounds of bones. Once again he heard the soft sigh as he came to a massive door and, without hesitation, unlatched the rusty bolt to push it open. To his amazement, he stood inside a great chamber filled almost to the ceiling with the remains of those who had perished in the wars. Victors and vanquished, orcs and elves....their bones mingled and called out for remembrance.

What happened next, Lindir could never quite explain. There was a moment when the earth tipped forward and then back, until it stood perfectly still again, though somewhat at an angle. The wooden door behind them shut with a loud clang and piles of bones came loose from their mooring, beginning to shake and shift. Just a moment later and an avalanche of skeletons had broken free. For a single instant, Lindir stood perfectly still. Then he turned to the door and frantically tried to push it open in a vain attempt to get out. But the door would not move; a great pile of skeletons came cascading down upon his head. Lindir protectively cradled his head in his arms, curling into a ball as he called out to Varda to protect them in this realm of shadow.