[Anguirel]

For some moments, Idrahil remained shaken by the Diviner's display of power...as well as by the fact that the vulnerable sage he had respected and protected for so long possessed a character, nature, and visage...so totally foreign to what the Seneschal had known...

As he hovered in the comforting familiarity of the air's bite, Idrahil realised that if he pursued the elven-crone bent on the destruction of those he had sworn to succour...he would not survive in his form as one of the Houseless Spirits.

But there was fighting spirit in the ancient warrior yet, and he nodded slightly. He would fall, but he would take his last enemy with him. And what did he have to lose?

Himring, was the answer. The garrison he had kept in good order despite everything. The remnants of the Feanorian army, still in their correct battalions and quarters. The First Company at the Gatehouse. The Sentries of the Torch-Brackets in this very bastion, who seemed to be absent without leave. The armourers and forgers. The gaolers. The Watch. All lovingly trained and disciplined, for if Maedhros was no longer here to be served, they yet stood for his brother...

Trained enough, Idrahil thought, that they could ultimately do without their battered old captain. He and his former associate the Diviner were going to Mandos.

***

The Diviner had, in the event, neglected to draw on her full potency to sweep Idrahil far away over the ocean. She had other affairs to attend to, with her very cavern threatened by the blunderings of Lindir and his friends. Besides, she felt strange disturbances-some buried bones had been lost already. She might yet need to use Idrahil. Better to keep him and manipulate him as she had done so many times before.

"Still following me, Seneschal dear? You seem to have got rather...left behind..."

A mild buffet of stinging wind and he was off balance again. The Lady Diviner smiled. But rather to her surprise, Idrahil returned it.

"I don't suppose you will do me the courtesy of letting me...catch up..."

In but a few moments he was before her. Now the Diviner quailed in shock. Such efforts were outstanding and draining even by her standards. It was as if the Seneschal was engaged in a battle he had no intension of returning from...gripped by misgiving, she propelled her blade into her hand once more.

"Parry!"

She did, but he was moving so fast still, recklessly fast. He knew he was her superior with the sword, and was not letting her have a chance to exploit her...other skills...

She opened a gap in her guard which the Seneschal-as she had known he would-exploited at once. Spirit-sword cut spirit-side; but now Idrahil was equally exposed, and she sunk her rapier into his shoulder. Luminescence leaked from their wounds and tiny stars of bright light fluttered from their illusory steel...

"Be sensible, Idrahil. We need to talk. If you force me to drive my sword home and do likewise, we will both be gone."

The only reply was the Seneschal's sword piercing slightly further into her aether. She reciprocated. It was like a kind of love, this position in which they were pinioned.

"Yes, we will, Lady. Whatever be your true name, make amends to the Valar now. They are said to be forgiving."

And at that both swords, in the same split second, were plunged to the hilt through their adversaries. The impartial, chill mist of Himling hid them from sight, and neither were seen again on the Hither Shore.