[Anguirel]

"You truly heard nothing?"

"Nothing but the sound of the water ahead," Malris replied, a grim note in his voice. Tasa was clearly hearing something more precise, more frightening, than she let on.

Another foul former lackey of Morgoth, aimless in spirit form? The cowardice of the creatures incensed the Elf. When in the days of the old wars a dozen of them would not have faced him in open battle...now their pathetic remnant, a mere handful of defeated, homeless, pointless souls with nothing to do but brood, dared to assault those he held dear without facing him first...

But was he no better than them? Had his success been any greater? He had not held Himring. He had not defended Giledhel. The fortress and the marriage, as foretold, had crumbled...what was he to do now? What was he here for?

"Tasa," he uttered aloud, "whatever you hear from It...Him...do not let it sway you. Concentrate your mind on anything of light and joy you recall, even in this place. I will try to help you. We are Elves of the Light. There is so much we knew of happiness ere Doom fell upon our people...think of Valinor, Tasa, with all your might."

As he spoke, the sword he bore started to regain its lustre-a mercy as the lighted tinder flickered disturbingly. Around them light not so unlike that of Tilion fell, as the Tengwar runes of Cirlach remembered the Silver Tree their maker had invoked long ago.

Yet Tasa shuddered. "Malris...the blade...put it away for the present."

He looked at her in utter confusion, before he saw the expression...almost one of pain...on her face.

"As you wish," he whispered back simply, sheathing the sword, and something of the shadow of the mind passed from Tasa's complexion, even as the shadows of the wall regained it.

They were now walking side by side, the passage having widened considerably as they drew closer to the sound of the liquid. The water was lapping louder than ever, and by the different stamp of the darkness ahead-its coherence, its almost gelatinous wholeness-they knew they looked upon the lake they had sought. Yet it was as still as black as those parts of the walls not revealed by Tasa's torch.

But it was not to remain so. A curve of greyish, dirty-white foam like a scimitar's slash told of the movements the Elves had already heard...