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Old 05-10-2008, 03:51 PM   #164
littlemanpoet
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: The Edge of Faerie
Posts: 7,072
littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.littlemanpoet is battling Black Riders on Weathertop.
Tharonwë

"Let us begin, " said Amroth.

Erebemlin gathered himself, and nodded.

"Lord," Roy Edwards from the future said, "we would give you aid in some way, whatever way we can. What can we do?"

What aid would these humans give, Tharonwë wondered. They were fools to cast about in the affairs of Elves. Only this Roy Edwards was a danger to him ... except, maybe, for this little girl, this little trouble maker who seemed beyond her years in word and thought - for he read her mind still.

He would stop them. Not, he now knew, in the way he had expected, for the one called Nimrodel was gone forever. The husk that remained disgusted him. They thought to blame him for the decrepitude that she now was, for they thought that he had brought her to it. But they were wrong. He had hidden her, that was all. It was her own despair and her constant feeding on it that had turned her into an aged crone, too weak of will and fëa to keep herself in youth. He hated her! She was not what she had pretended to be! And so he made a new decision. He would not kill her. That would only free her to the Halls of Mandos, where the fëa of Amroth awaited her. No, he would give them no such simple cure to their self-inflicted ills. They deserved their despair, and if Amroth thought to join her in her depths, he would ease his way.

He had still Roy Edwards of the future to thank for the fascinating art of hypnosis, such a supple tool in combination with osanwë. All he need to was enter Amroth's and Erebemlin's thought - not Roy Edwards'! - then locate their desires, then uncover the one most suited to his end, and twist it ever so slightly so that their purpose ran just the slightest degree wide of their aim, and sealed their own fate, deep in the despair, the ice cold despair and slow death that would leave them wasting away until the Ages ceased. It was perfect.

He reached out with his thought subtly, ever so carefully, arching wide of Roy Edwards and the girl Indil, and arching wide of the Elven woman Mithrellas as well, for she was a honed will, sharpened to the cutting point by virtue of having given herself so competely to another's benefit for millenia. It was folly! Yet somehow she had made herself strong through it. Tharonwë did not understand her, and so steered his thought clear of her. And he found Amroth. Ah yes, nothing was important to him, at all, except Nimrodel. And that was his fatal mistake, for every other being there was a mere tool for Amroth's use in finding Nimrodel.

And then he saw it. All he needed to do was let Amroth find Nimrodel at the deepest of the deeps, in the midst of her despair, and help them unite, and help Erebemlin aid them in this, and their fëar would be joined as one, and all he need to then was kill the boy Mellondu, and r kill outright the bodily form of Erebemlin, and the result would be that Amroth's fëa would be imprisoned in the aging and despairing being of Nimrodel, and Erebemlin along with him. If all he could do was weaken Erebemlin's will, then a part of his fëa would be trapped with Amroth and Nimrodel, and he would forever be a shadow of himself. Tharonwë grinned in delight at his plan. It would work! He bided his time.
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