[Firefoot]

The conflict arising in the dark recesses of the room had finally started to get through to Lómwë’s consciousness. "I know where your friends be. I know how to save them-travel to my grotto and bury the bones therein. But you never will. For I will end you here, and you will remain here, all six of you traitors who left us to die...you will never see Mandos, any more than I will..."

“Death,” mumbled Lómwë. “Now why should death be such a bad thing…? Perhaps I might find my Ellothiel waiting for me that way…” No! If it is death you seek, do not seek it by him… her! She would destroy you – not kill you, destroy you! The urgency of this thought slammed into his mind, and whether it came from himself or by osanwë Lómwë did not know. He was hesitant to accept this, his mind still bent on Ellothiel. What have I done? Oh, Ellothiel, wait for me, I’m coming…

But the strong little voice did not shut up. Don’t you understand? She would destroy you. A pause. There would be nothing left for Ellothiel to find, and no way that you could go to reach her! Lómwë registered this groggily and finally began to understand the very real danger.

Must get out. Out, out, out. Now.

Lómwë lethargically pushed himself to his feet, headed for the stairs. His feet worked mechanically; they seemed to understand better than his mind the necessity and hurried him down the stairs and out the door. Footsteps echoed behind him. Right - Endamir.

To the grotto – Lómwë could not recall why, but he knew that was where he was supposed to go. He frowned at his own memory – had it been to find Ellothiel? Perhaps, yes, that sounded right. Grotto – he knew he hadn’t already seen it, so it must not be in the direction they had come. He turned to face the unexplored part of the city. Yes, that way. Endamir already forgotten, Lómwë hurried off in that direction. I’m coming, Ellothiel!