[Feanor of the Peredhil]

As Malris sliced through the shrieking air, Tasa fought for breath. She had felt the probing fingers of unnatural thought relent and she cherished the moment of mental purity.

She could sense Malris' thought, though she could not tell what it was. Her exhaustion began to overcome her as she slumped to the floor. Physical battling forgotten, she concentrated on keeping back those spirits that wished to overcome her mind. They now attacked again and she shuddered, sickened by the touch.

Give up, she-Elf, they hissed. You are ours. It is only a matter of time.

No! she screamed in her thought, battling silently and without movement.

Malris fought above her, keeping her safe from the airborne menace. He cried words to the evil creatures, demanding their attention. Few crows broke through his guard, but those who did scratched at Tasa. She made no move of protest.

"What do you want of us?" he cried. She could hear him more in her mind than with her delicately pointed ears. His fierce demand pierced the onslaught of angry will that dominated Tasa's concentration. She smiled weakly to know he remained beside her.

You will not succeed. Malris will stop you! She laughed bitterly at her enemies, feeling uncertain triumph as she sensed their growing uncertainty. One voice, tinged with madness, spoke more softly than the cackle of the orcs, like poisoned silk sliding over bare skin; cold, deadly, but so smooth and sweet.. Giledhel. Tasa's hopes waned.

He is mine. Already he turns from you.

Tasa forced her eyes open, searching through the black whirlwind of feathers and shrieks. Malris had gone. No claws now landed scratches, no beaks tore flesh from Tasa's white hands. Though the birds flew, they no longer attacked. Malris was gone from sight.

He comes to me. He leaves you alone... he does not love you and he never will. The voice cut deeper, softer. Tasa's body wept as she radiated bright defiance. Look... look through the storm of wings... you have lost.

The birds drifted apart... Malris knelt before an ancient loom, stained with age and broken. He spoke words that Tasa could not hear. Screeches of laughter assailed her from all sides.

Foolish wench. You have lost him.

Tasa could not scream, could not even part her lips to try. The wind tore at her though the birds did not. The weaving on the loom drifted in a breeze unfelt by Malris. He was entranced. Tasa felt her will weakening.

She did not hear herself scream as she was taken. She was cold and empty inside. No longer assailed by crows, her corporeal form was flanked by insubstantial ones of orcs long dead. Those that she perhaps had slain. Their touch was as daggers to her skin and she did not care. Malris had chosen... death over life... insanity and chaos over friendship and laughter and light. Tasa was helpless to sway him. He had chosen the past... the tortured past. She watched her friend as he knelt before a mirror of ages, lost to time and trust. She saw him as he spoke comforting words to a lost love. He barely moved as her body screamed protest. Her soul was silent. He had left her to be taken.

Now he turned and she did not see.

"Take your...hands...off her, yrch..."

They did not heed him. She did not care. Tasa was lost in anguish.

Suddenly her hilt was pressed into her hand. Warm flesh touched hers and Tasa awakened as though from a dream. She gasped for breath, choking on the cold air and sliced through the nothingness in the air around her. Revitalized, she could feel where Malris' skin had brushed hers as though it were on fire. Its warmth permeated her entire being as Giledhel shrieked madly in Tasa's mind. A moan echoed through the chamber as Tasa came to life once more. Malris took her hand and her blood stained his skin.

The birds shrieked once more as Tasa shivered against what had so nearly been the end. Hand in hand, they held their blades aloft, steel glittering in new sunlight.

"Malris..." she whispered. He leaned close to his friend. "It is time, I believe, to go home."