[littlemanpoet]

Tharonwë blinked. Thrice now he had imagined the deed, but only once had he meant to. The second and third times, he had believed that it was real - it had been real! - until he had realized that he was standing there still, near the edge of the vale, with the same two arrows in his hand, as yet unreleased. Erebemlin still knelt by the blacksmith who was holding Nimrodel above the stream bed, both of them uninjured. The two maimed Eorlingas still stood together, arm in arm, watching the Elves. And now the minstrel and Gondorian woman had sung songs dripping with sentimentality. All this nonsense must come to an end!

He raised the first arrow to the bow again. Yes, all of them were watching the drama by the streambed, except for the dog, who was watching him. No matter. He aimed at the neck of the blacksmith again. He pulled back on the bowstring to his cheek. He let fly.

How had the dog moved so quickly? How had it jumped into the air at just the right moment and taken the arrow in its side with a yelp? Now it lay on its side panting heavily. The Eorlingas turned and looked in horror, and the wainwright let go of his love and came at Tharonwë. He raised the other arrow, aimed it at the wainwright, and let loose. It pierced his left breast; blood flowed like a river: the arrow had found his heart, and he fell. The earless girl screamed.

Tharonwë grabbed another arrow from the quiver and aimed again at the blacksmith.

Aeron and Gwyllion

"See what Raefindan is doing?" she asked him.

"Yes, I do."

"Want to help him?"

"But he killed me."

"That was when he was being used by the swamp elf. It was the swamp elf who really killed you, so that means he killed both of us. Now Raefindan's in control. Let's go help."

Aeron nodded. They rose from their place by the edge of the vale and made their way to the swamp elf, who stood staring at dreams. They walked straight into him. Being ghosts, they could see the thought waves that Raefindan had patterned into a door right into Tharonwë's mind. Together hey opened the door and went in.

Tharonwë

He was standing there, seeing that the dog was still alive watching him, and the Eorlingas were still hand in hand observing the blacksmith. But now the two orphans were standing in front of him, looking up at him quizzically. They could not be here! He had killed them both! One was in a watery grave by the Entwash swamps, the other a broken corpse in a mountain valley.

"You really think you're somethin', don't you?" the girl asked.

"You don't get it, do you?" the boy added.

"You're not going to get your way, plain and simple." the girl shook her head in mock sympathy.

"You are dead," Tharonwë said. "You cannot be here."

"Oh, we're dead, but we're here," said the girl.

"And you're just wasting your time," said the boy. "In fact, your whole life is a waste from what I can tell."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he said crossly to them both. "Out of my way!"

The girl crossed her arms dramatically and lowered her brow, pursing her lips meaningfullly. "We're not going anywhere!"

"And you're not going to do anything. Just try!" said the boy, grinning mischievously.

"I have been tr-" Tharonwë stopped. He was not about to explain himself to a pair of sillly human children. But he had been trying, and he had not been doing anything. How could this be?

Ædegard

"You're dead. You can't be here."

Ædegard frowned and turned in curiosity. The swamp elf had spoken. He was looking down in front of him, holding a bow and a pair of arrows in two listless hands. Had the elf gone moonstruck? Ædegard nudged Leafa and tilted his head in the direction of the swamp elf, who was apparently carrying on a conversation with phantoms of his own imagining. Leafa raised a hand to her smiling lips and giggled mildly, then turned her attention back to Amroth. Ædegard looked at Raefindan, who smiled and winked once before returning his gaze back to Mellondu.