[Belin]

Celumëomaryu raced down the stairs, filled only with the thought of her escaping prey. She'd done nothing! All her icy rage and all her admittedly ghostly presence had not stopped even one of them; she was powerless and angry and she gave no thought to what else might have been happening in the castle.

She gave no thought to the stairs she was rushing down or the hall she was once again crossing, either, and suddenly found herself standing before the door. Even in her rage she was brought up short by the sounds coming from beyond it.

Battles again. Maladil, that fool, must he fight with everyone? Celumëomaryu had given up Anna, had given up the bodies, as any sensible person would do. It was only the intruders who had broken into her library, yes, hers, no matter what deals she had struck, and Calimiel the traitor that she sought. Maladil could take a hint, and she certainly had no intention of being drawn into his battle. None of that.

She looked past them quietly, not wanting to make a movement that might catch anyone's eye, thankful for the lack of a body that would surely have trembled with utter frustration and given her away. She was losing them. They were escaping. She resisted the urge to cry out in anger... there. They'd rounded the corner. The stables, then.

She turned, with all the grace native to a ghost and an elf, and navigated through the inner courtyard, around the shed, and to the stables, just in time to see the enviable body of the girl Calimiel had taken fly from a horse and smash against a wall, and Calimiel left it.

Celumëomaryu froze, staring.

She saw that strange girl, the one who might or might not have been living, take up the body, as if it had truly been Calimiel's, and as if they had been friends.

She saw one of the truly living rush up to the horse, as the other stood in a shock that seemed to mirror her own.

She saw Calimiel weeping over her ill-begotten body. The self-love of this foolish girl was quite beyond her tolerance. She lunged toward her, and missed, knocking her to the ground in a wailing heap more or less in passing. It was upon the half-living woman that her attack fell.

This woman (the Andreth they'd mentioned, it had to be) leapt up, startled but solid and unharmed, calling to her, though Celumëomaryu could not guess what, unless it might be "stop, stop." This time she did howl. The woman was so insenstive to ghosts that her attack had done nothing, nothing.... Infuriated, she kicked at Calimiel again, but the ridiculous brat had gotten to her feet, and ignored all of Celumëomaryu's assaults.

What is happening to me, what is happening to me,she thought frantically, no longer listening to the voice of the living girl, no longer concerned with the horse and its attendants, one of whom seemed to be coming forth to meet her.

What will happen to me?