[Estelyn Telcontar]

Up the winding staircase Merisuwyniel went, exploring various hallways in each story as she proceeded, opening and closing doors to the left and right. Drawn on by she knew not what, she went on until she reached the thirteenth floor - well, it might have been the twelfth or fourteenth, depending on how floors are counted in that part of Muddled-berth. There were no doors at all in this hallway, only a large wardrobe at the opposite end. Intrigued by the thought of finding some unique fashions, so outdated that they would be hip again, the Elven maiden tried the door.

It opened quite easily, and two moth-balls dropped out. Looking into the inside, she saw several coats hanging up – mostly long fur coats. Now, despite her love for living animals, there was nothing Merisuwyniel liked so much as the smell and feel of fur. She immediately stepped into the wardrobe and got in among the coats and rubbed her face against them, leaving the door open, of course, because she knew that it is very foolish to shut oneself into any wardrobe. Soon she went further in and found that there was a second row of coats hanging up behind the first one. It was almost quite dark in there and she kept her arms stretched out in front of her so as not to bump her face into the back of the wardrobe. She took a step further in – then two or three steps – always expecting to feel woodwork against the tips of her fingers. But she could not feel it.

“This must be a simply enormous wardrobe!” thought Merisuwyniel, going still further in and pushing the soft folds of the coats aside to make room for her. Suddenly a silvery light appeared ahead of her. She stepped out from between the coats into a room lit by the emanations from a silvery globe on a table in its middle, reflected from a mirror on the wall. Fascinated, she approached the mysterious orb and reached out to touch it, startled when it began to hum and glow brightly. She whirled around upon hearing someone speak, but could see no one.

“I’m sorry, I’m not home right now,” said a female voice. “If it’s Sourone, press 1 for my opinion on what you are doing. If it’s my maids, Mildew and Melancholia, press 2 for instructions. If it’s Thing, my pet hand, stop playing around with my Cell-antír! If it’s Friday, press 3 for information on when I will return.”

Puzzled, Merisuwyniel whipped out her pocket calendar to see what day it was. It was Friday, so she looked at the globe, found the number 3 and pressed it. “No, not the day of the week, stupid,” came the answer. “I mean my butler Friday, of course! Now, where were we? Oh, if it’s someone else, press the first five letters of your name for a personalized message.”

M-E-R-I-S, she typed. Suddenly the room went dark and the mirror glowed with a greenish light. Strange symbols flashed, then the likeness of a female appeared. Raven-black hair surrounded a face filled with sadness and despair; blue eyes gazed mournfully as red lips moved, speaking directly to her, it seemed.

“There is only one person whose name has those letters. If you are watching this message right now, there must be some terrible reason why I can’t tell you this myself. Long have I searched for you, but the Elves kept you hidden away too well. I have sent out messengers disguised as suitors to find you, but they lost your trail. I have sought for you with my thoughts, sending you O-mails, but I couldn’t keep the connection long enough to locate you. I have sent you dreams – do you recognize me? Meri, I am your mother!”

Merisuwyniel gasped and leaned against the table for support. Could it be true? Was this the one she had longed for all her life, thinking her long dead? How had She come to this fate?

The image continued to speak, looking and sounding more familiar with every word. The Elven maiden knew that She spoke the truth. Urgently, She continued, “There is a great evil within these walls, so great that I cannot bear my life here any longer. I cannot escape; I am what I have become, and there is no way back. Yet perhaps you will succeed where I have failed, my daughter. I do not know if you will be granted the strength and the means wherewith to conquer the foe, but my heart tells me that you may after all. This is what I know about the artefacts that may be of help…”

Merisuwyniel listened attentively, nodding although she realized that the image could no longer see her. She would ask Etceteron more later, to be able to know and mourn her mother better, but now there was no time to delay. They were all in grave danger. Quickly she took the Cell-antír and ran back through the wardrobe and down the stairs to find her companions.