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This is not how it was meant to be . . . my brother did not wish to go . . . it is only his great affection for me which draws him on . . . not his desire to return to Aman . . .
His chest rose as the salt sea air rushed in. With a sigh of near regret he breathed it out again. Orëmir’s forehead rested against his. And on his still closed eyes Endamir could feel his brother’s pooling tears.
Endamir pushed himself up to a sitting position, shaking off the last of the Diviner’s assault. Harder to put away was the remembrance of the white shores he had but barely glimpsed and the sweet music which had reached out to him. He reached out his arms to his brother and cradled him against his shoulder.
A fool, Orëmir . . . that’s what I was, to think that I could leave you.
He laughed, his eyes glinting in the sea-light. And more the fool, you . . . for thinking I would . . . that I could . . . do so.
They sat together in silence for a short while. Then the sounds of their two companions near them drew their attention. ‘Lómwë! Lindir!’ they called out in unison. The two brothers stood and helped Lindir up on his good leg. They made their way slowly away from the grassy cliff, toward the place in the fortress from which they had started that morning. Lómwë followed along with the trio, quiet and seeming despondent.
‘Malris! Where are you?’ Endamir called out, his voice echoing among the stones of the empty space . .
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