{19}

A hush fell over the autumn night. No longer did the leaves rustle in the yellowing trees, for not a breath of wind dared stir the cooling air. In the gloom beneath the cloud covered moon Thranduil could faintly see the glitter of golden light in Annatars eyes - making all the world seem all too close about them and the short span between them stifling. Again he moved to depart but the maia's grip showed no sign of loosening, so as best he could Thranduil steadied his gaze and forced the uncertainty from his voice.

"I will admit," He began. "That thoughts of your offer had been far from my mind this evening. As such I do not have an answer for you; a reply from me will not be had this night, for I do not feel inclined to make a decision one way or another at this moment."

Slowly a smile spread across Annatars lips. "Of course. Yet; indecisiveness is not a fitting quality for a prince. Surely you already know your answer, so speak it!"

"And if it is not in your favor?" Thranduil challenged and his eyes glinted harshly in the faint light, for his suspicions had returned with full strength. But Annatar laughed.

"My favor? My young lord, I care not that you accept my offer - I will suffer no lack of sleep, nor terrible dreams or visions if I do not cure you. You, however; may yet. I do not think you one to deny your own hopes of wholeness, but if you have made your choice then please, tell me."

Though softly spoken, the words held an impetus that seemed irresistible and Thranduil now doubted himself, beguiled by the truth hidden within the lie.

It is true though, that I will continue to be plagued without intervention - and none among the elves can perform this miracle. Perhaps I sabotage myself out of baseless fear and pride.

Long he stood, mute and unsure as all the world grew dark about him. Yet when he shifted his gaze a gentle hand on his chin guided him back to face the waiting maia. "Do not fear, my prince. All good medicine is bitter at the first, yet this is for the best."

Slowly, inexorably, Thranduil found his thought faltering in the cadence of Annatars soothing words and it was as if a misty veil fell between him and the waking world. The air about them grew as heavy and thick as a midsummer night and as Thranduil peered into the softly glowing gold of Annatars eyes a strange hazy warmth filled him and thoroughly numbed his mind so that he could do little more than stare dreamily into those deep pools...

It was, as it happened, that as Thranduil finished this part of the tale a young elf appeared, reminding her king of the council-meeting that waited expectantly for his arrival.

"Ah...I forget that my time is not mine alone. I am sorry Lord Celeborn but it seems that you shall have to wait until the evening to hear the remainder of this saga. Yet," And Thranduil paused here on his way to the door, casting his gaze over a velvet clad shoulder.

"If...perhaps...you are not yet weary of such tales there is another you could speak with. Much of what follows is known to Idhrenir - in fact his part in this history cannot be omitted. Seek out Idhrenir and he may tell you, if he wills, the events that befell him in that time outside the realm of my knowledge. Perhaps a greater history you will then come to understand. In any case that part of the tale is not mine to tell. For now I must go."

With a courteous bow Thranduil took his leave. Celeborn now turned his thoughts to where the elusive Silvan in the Kings service might now be - for he was a member of the council yet Thranduil would scarcely recommend him if he were at all necessary for the precedings. Leaving the rainbow hued study behind Celeborn made his way deep into the labyrinth of winding wooded halls, passing for a long time among high sconces lit with the soft glow of florescent blooms gathered in scooped sconces of brass or browned iron or hung from gilded baskets to run trailing upon the ceiling like verdant filigree - petals thrown wide in the soft dark. Every corner he passed held secret promise, yet no matter how many he turned Idhrenir was not on the other side. After searching high and low for any sign of the advisor Celeborn came upon a familiar pair seated in a large and comfortable room at the end of the guest wing. Gimli's voice had carried down the hall with ease and though Celeborns old apprehension concerning Dwarves had eased it had not entirely abated. To his relief however Gimli's only companion was the golden-haired prince with which he had spent nearly he entire trip - the remainder of the Dwarven party no-where to be seen ( they were in fact happily raiding the pantries ). As Celeborn appeared at the door Gimli halted in the telling of some strange tale involving a poor recipe translation and it's results on a Dwarven kitchen and instead greeted the noble, saying.

"My Lord of the Wood! Long has it been since I have last lain eyes upon you!" And standing he gave a humble bow and Celeborn noticed that his coppery beard had grown yet longer (it had already been quite impressive) and was braided and hung with baubles of gold set with rubies and garnets that danced with warm sparkles amid the firelight. The rough traveling gear was now changed for a matching set of finely embroidered tunic and breeches decorated in geometric red and orange patterns and crowned with golden buttons. Gimli truly looked every inch the part of a Dwarf-Lord of old. Yet as the wizened Dwarf rose his face seemed unexpectedly sad. "Yet I hear tidings that tear at my heart, for rumor has reached me that the fairest Lady of Lothlorien has gone away over the sea! Is this cruel rumor or a sad truth?"

"A truth it is," Celeborn confirmed and his heart ached anew as well though he smiled. "Yet it is not a sad one, for the way that was barred has been opened; and the cold fate that awaited averted. It is for the best that Galadriel has sailed into the West, for here a fate of fading alone she should meet."

"Fading?" Gimli wondered aloud. "I'll admit that I am a poor student of Elvish ways, I have no idea as to what that is or why setting sail should prevent it."

Legolas looked up and his eyes were pleading even as he sought to catch Celeborns gaze. And Celeborn returned it but there was a stern finality in his countenance such that Legolas knew that Gimli would be told what had long been hidden from him.

Celeborn spoke: "Elves as you know age not, nor do we grow sick or diseased. Yet we can be slain, and we can die of grief, and even if we are spared these fates in due time with the passage of years we will 'Fade' - to become like a ghostly memory or a wraith in the night, without body or substance. That for us is 'death', though not like the deaths of men where their spirit leaves the confines of the world for we elves are reborn in the West."

"Into wraiths!" Gimli exclaimed with a vigorous shudder. "To think such a thing befell the elves! Is this why they are sailing?"

"Yes." Confirmed Celeborn. "To a land unfading. Lady Galadriel may look young and fair to the eyes of mortals but she is old even by the count of elves, or for that matter perhaps even the Lords of the West - though of course they be older than all of Arda. For a number of years now the dread of Fading has crept ever closer with each passing turn of the seasons. The ring she held, Nenya - Ring of Adamant - was crafted to allow her to keep Lothlorien ever-young and a perfect garden in Middle-Earth. Yet by the end of her sojourn here the ring itself preserved not only Lothlorien but it's Lady as well, for without out it she would long ago have gone beyond the brink of aid."

At this Gimli thought a moment, clouds of pipe-weed rising about him as an unusually pensive scowl settled upon his face. Then at length he asked; "Old, even among the Eldar. But what is 'old' to those who do not age? If it not be an insult to ask, what is the age of the Lady of the Wood?"

Celeborn gave a laugh. "It is not an insult, dear Gimli - for among the Eldar honor is gained with the passing of years and to be Eldest among us noble in it's own right. But for the Lady Galadriel the span of her grace is not well counted in years or even decades. Centuries and an age perhaps. Can you fathom the span of the time between now and the rising of the sun and moon? Yet, nay, the Lady is older even than that - for she was full grown before their first voyage and had spent already many centuries under the tutelage of Manwë and Aüle."

"These names are unfamiliar to me - but older than the sun and the moon?!" Here he spoke some words of astonishment in the rumbling tones of the Dwarves. "By Durin's Beard I knew not that I was a mere child! The sun and the moon; imagine such a thing! But she is by far more fair than either, or both together! But ach! And you laddie-" Here Gimli turned to Legolas who laughed heartily. "And how old are you?"

"Not as old as sun and moon!" Legolas laughed.

Just then Gimli turned thoughtful again and asked; "Now these, 'Lords of the West', what might they be exactly? I've heard tell of the land beyond the sea and a great king there - but men know nothing about it and elves seldom tell."

Celeborn nodded slowly. "That may be because men have never truly met the Lords of the West; for they last came into the world during the War of Wrath and of course no man from that war yet lives for it occurred many centuries ago. And the elves here in the east never fared to Valinor and thus all they know of the Powers is what has been passed to them by their elders or perhaps even one or two may remember the Powers themselves! But likely there are none among the Avari who are yet old enough to remember the Lords of the West as anything more than a tale told to them as children. Middle Earth is fraught with danger; though much less now than in olden days. Not many elves have survived those hard days."

Remembering their manners Legolas and Gimli offered the Lord of Lothlorien a seat ( and a tart or two and some tea ). Once he was settled he spoke again to a rapt audience - for though Legolas was an elf, Thranduil his father was counted among the Sindar and thus knew little of the Valar outside of what the King Thingol had learned from the Maia Melian in days gone by.

"Fortunately for you the memories of Elves remains untarnished with the passing of years, Master Dwarf. It is not well known, but though I am thought of as a prince of the Sindar and related to the house of Elwe, once known as Elu-Thingol King of the the Sindar in Doriath, I am not truly of the Sindar alone but also part from a smaller house led under the banner of the Kings younger brother - whom is named to us as Lenwe. Lenwe in turn had a son named Denethor and through this son I am come. When my father Denethor crossed into Beleriand at last with his people they were a kindred apart and became known as the Nandor. There in Beleriand Denethor took a bride from the people of the Sindar and thus I am born of both houses and Elu-Thingol is my great-uncle.

From Thingol I learned much of the Lords of the West, yet from the Lady Galadriel I learned far more. Often the elves here sing of Elebereth Gilthoniel, a name I'm sure even you dear Gimli have heard before. Yet in the Undying Lands she is named Varda a great Lady of the Valar. With her is Manwe who is their King, in truth King of all Arda even unto Middle-Earth. Of the Aratar; or High Lords, there is Ulmo of the seas who rules all waters, Namo who ordains the Doom of the Dead - perhaps even the world itself, then Nienna who cries for those who are aggrieved yet teaches patience and strength and endurance during trial, Lorien from whom dreams and visions are come, Tulkas who wards the Ainur from harm, Orome who is master of the hunt and chase, Yavanna the Lady of all growing things that put forth seed, and bulb, and flower, and her husband Aule who is master of stone and jewels and the bones of the earth. Of him you might take a special interest Gimli."

"Aye." Gimli stated, stroking his long copper beard. "We Dwarves tell tale of one much like that who is known to us as Mahal - our father who shaped us before the beginning of the world. Durin is his first son; the first to awaken under stone from the sleep of Mahal. It is why Dwarves all reverence the Line of Durin so, for it is said that Durin returns to us through his heirs and will do so long as Dwarves endure. Yet I have never heard of this 'Aulë', still he sounds unusual for a deity of the elves."

"He is a power of Arda, Master Dwarf." Celeborn corrected gently. "not of elves alone. That which you name Mahal is Aulë to us - they are one and the same. He lives yet in the West in lands undying even now if the words of the Lady Galadriel are to be believed ( and of course they are )."

Now Gimli sputtered and foamed and coughed at the thought. His face turned red and his beard wagged with excitement as he jumped to his feet with eyes were bright and shining. "Bless me! Bless all the Elves if this is true! Mahal is no mere tale handed down, uncertain and unknown but is in truth one of the great Powers of the world which hold Arda together?! This I have never heard before but it is a joy! And the Lady has spoken with Mahal - even under his tutelage! Bless me, by my beard!"

And Gimli went on in such a way for a while and Legolas and Celeborn laughed with him to see his joy and a proud Dwarf-Lord acting much like an excited boy who has just been given a great gift. Gimli then and there would know everything told to Celeborn but was gently rebuffed - at least until a later time.

"There is time enough yet my dear Gimli," Celeborn explained as he excused himself. "I was on an errand when I stopped by and to that errand I must return. However; I will come back when I am through and then you shall know all that I do concerning Aule and the coming of the Dwarves. I warn you though it is a long tale."

"Nay, any tale of Mahal is too short!" Gimli replied, but the two friends let Celeborn be on his way.

Some time later Celeborn happened upon his quarry in one of the lower halls ( oddly enough near the wine cellar ) and after a good deal of heel-dragging he had managed to coax the shy Silvan into a private study where, with a pot of hot tea between them, Idhrenir finally agreed to speak of what had passed in those far gone days.

"Though I am loathe." Idhrenir noted with a heavy sigh, seeming very weary already. "It is not a pleasant tale for me; and my King is correct when he says that I play a large role in what was to come. An instigator perhaps even."

Celeborn settled into his own plush chair, a quizzical expression upon his handsome face and his deep blue eyes troubled. "An instigator? Of what?"

"My own misfortune." Idhrenir mused bitterly. And thus he began his tale.

A heavy and solid crash jolted Thranduil from his reverie and he sprang back, heart pounding in his chest. Yet as he did he just glimpsed Annatars snarl, teeth bared in vicious anger and eyes flashing like fire as he sharply turned to stare at the source of their interruption. At the top of a small stair to their left, with impassive face and graceful movements stood a dark brown haired elf who after a courteous bow descended. Idhrenir gave a faint smile but his eyes were hard and fierce, lit by wrath from within.

"My apologies my lords." He stated grandiosely with a curling growl as he stooped and lifted a glimmering silver platter from the marble stair. "It is late and I must be tired for my grip to fail so. I came searching for my lord, as it is far beyond the time of his normal retirement to his quarters. I am glad to have found him."

For all Idhrenirs polite words Thranduil, even befuddled as he was with wine could sense an acrimonious spirit beneath the careful rhetoric and it shocked him, for never before had he heard even a faint whisper of mean-spirited nature pass Idhrenirs lips. Yet to him the elf gave a genuinely glad smile and spoke. "My lord, you tarry too long in the chill night! A long day awaits you, come, it is time for rest."

"A strange business of the elves;" Annatar spoke suddenly, voice needle sharp and tipped in venom. Thranduil and Idhrenir turned to regard the haughty maia. "A strange business indeed that the servants order their masters around."

"Strange as it may seem to you," Idhrenir responded shortly as he drew yet nearer to Thranduil. "It is the normal habit of the elves, for we honor our Lords by our consent alone and our allegiance is given willingly, never forced upon us."

A warm woolen blanket Idhrenir held in his right hand and this he draped generously over the princes shoulders. With the sudden warmth Thranduil realized that the night had indeed grown very chill and the briskness of the late autumn air quickly cleared his head. To Idhrenir he spoke softly; "Thank you, for you trouble yourself much on my behalf." But to Annatar he answered; "The night is indeed long and now is the time for rest. Whatever my decision be it will also rest until the morrow."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, at first light?" Annatar spoke civilly but his voice crackled with the impunity of command but Idhrenir made a short coughing laugh in his throat.

"First light? It is nearly that now! Until last light it can wait I deem!"

Now Annatars anger grew hot and he growled. "Doting quite faithfully are you? Your lord can hardly get a word in edgewise!"

"My princes interest is at my heart." Idhrenir answered just as sharply, and his demeanor was less fitting of a servant than a warrior primed for battle. Amber eyes were keen as they pierced the glowing aura around Annatar and saw deep into a darkness well concealed from the eyes of most, thus his words at parting were cold.

"My prince comes first. Should anything or anyone seek to do him harm then let them beware! I will not abide any mistreatment of my lord. Though of course-" He added with fake sweetness. "I judge that this is of course understood by you, for you would naturally do nothing to injure my Prince."

"Of course." Annatar replied, and his courteous bow hid the rancor upon his face beneath a veil of golden hair.

Turning sharply Idhrenir ushered his lord up the small stair and into the security of the darkened halls, leaving Annatar standing mutely in the night. A moment passed. Then Annatar slowly ascended the stair that Thranduil had left, knowing well that to follow would be fruitless. Gazing upon a tree bedecked with fragrant blossoms of white Annatar lifted his hand to brush the light petals of the weeping cherry, turning them over gently in his palm. Yet his mood was dark and as he twisted the thin stalk about his hand the branch crackled and the bright petals withered into ash. Then a crooked smile crossed his face. Quickly golden eyes turned up the tree-lined path and with a dismissive a flourish he released the burnt branch and strode up the adorned walkway towards the main house of the Lord of Eregion.

Now a mortal man may well awake in the morning after a night of drink to find the evening beyond all hope of recall, yet for the elves this does not hold true and their memory - for good or ill - remains firmly intact. The next morning Thranduil awoke to the realization that he could no longer put off his decision - today, one way or the other - he would have to answer Annatar. His morning meal seemed bland and the tea chill - such a dour mood he found himself in. In silence Thranduil's mind turned to the night before as he ate, mulling over the events in his mind. Oddly, his head hurt. Idhrenir assured him that this was unfortunately quite normal, for while elves are immune to many things, hangovers are not one of them. His mood souring quickly Thranduil returned to his bread and tea.

Idhrenir barely noted his lords foul temper - concerned as he was with the previous nights events. In truth he had gone in search of Thranduil due to the lateness of the evening. Yet he had also felt a deep sense of foreboding that would not depart. So he took to the shimmering streets, lit only by starlight and the subtle radiance of white lanterns that sent shadows flickering amid the towering trees. At length he despaired of ever finding his prince and had convinced himself that retiring to the comfort of their quarters might be best. Yet in that moment he had just glimpsed Annatar and his curiosity overcame his caution - for since first laying eyes on the maia he had felt an unexplainable aversion. On their first meeting they had greeted one another civilly, but Annatars energy had slid along his skin with a rasping like the scales of a venomous serpent and startled Idhrenir so badly he had leapt back in visible horror. He couldn't explain why he could sense such a thing - or why it seemed so few among even the Eldar could. Yet Idhrenir knew it to be no illusion, no mere trick of the mind. No, he had sensed ( quite correctly ) that there was something foul about this 'maia of Aulë'. He wanted no part of him.

So now at a safe distance he had watched with great interest. When Thranduil had appeared his first thought was to rush to his errant princes side with words of chastisement for the late excursion (especially as he hadn't been informed) but as he saw Thranduil come bounding happily down the tree-lined path; sending a bloom of flora in his wake he had also seen Annatar coming up the stairs onto the small landing and his ears had just barely heard an echoing darkness that shrieked through him to the bone; dark words unheard outside to the realms of darker creatures.

It shocked him to the core; for he could have sworn that Annatar had cast some fell sorcery - and as it was Idhrenir recovered scarcely in time to see Thranduil's stumble into the maia's arms. Now Idhrenir's ire rose and he called out loudly to Thranduil in warning; breaking the calm protocol he prided himself on so much. Yet no matter how he yelled it seemed Idhrenir's words no longer reached his lord and with his stomach knotting in fear Idhrenir saw that Annatar now whispered some soft speech to Thranduil and that princes eyes grew unfocused and blank.

Racing around the high wall of the walkway Idhrenir came running at full speed to the top of the stair leading to that landing and with a great cast he threw down the silver plater he had held so that it rang noisily upon the stone. Thranduil had fled like a startled deer yet Annatar turned with a wolfish snarl, eyes flashing fire. Collecting himself, Idhrenir bowed to hide his heaving chest.

"My apologies my lords."

Idhrenir had been all too glad to finally usher his prince away from Annatar, but just before they had turned the corner he had spared a glance behind to ensure they were not being followed. And as the elf watched the maia walk briskly up the path toward Celebrimbors estate a feeling of dark apprehension had gripped him, yet he did not know why. With his prince firmly in hand he had retreated to the safety of their locked bower.

Now separated by the safety of daylight Idhrenir turned his attention back to the present. While Thranduil finished his morning meal Idhrenir began his morning errands, for his work was never truly done. Making his way through the commons he greeted the baker and secured a few rolls for himself before continuing on to the stables. He had hoped to catch Celebrimbor before the lords morning ride but the stable-master shook his head.

"The lord didn't come down today. He sent a messenger to let me know - after I had the horses tacked wouldn't you know it. Said he wasn't feeling up to it, that he must have pulled something the other day so he wanted some time to recover."

"Oh." Idhrenir mused. After a bit of friendly banter ( and a forfeiting of one of his rolls ) he headed back toward the main estate hoping for better luck this time. Yet none of the courtiers, or the housekeepers, or the bookkeepers, or anyone else for that matter seemed to know where Celebrimbor had disappeared to.

"Well has Lord Celebrimbor at least left his room?" Idhrenir finally asked a slightly befuddled cleaning-woman at length. She nodded.

Knowing full well he couldn't spend the whole day searching for such an elusive elf Idhrenir finally returned to his other duties. Upon his return to the room he noted that the Prince had vacated; apparently to the library as one of the other Silvans in the retinue informed him. Sometime in mid-afternoon Idhrenir finally took a short break which was far shorter than he would have liked as it was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Feren didn't wait for an answer, instead he settled himself quite noisily in an adjacent chair. "You're resting? Are you ill?" Feren chuckled, bouncing leather clad legs slung lazily over a well-padded arm-rest. Idhrenir sighed."Feren, shouldn't you be guarding something?"

"Well my dear brother I am a Palace guard. This is part of the palace-"

"Fortress."

"There's little difference Idhrenir."

"There is a world of difference Feren."

For a moment they gazed upon one another in silence.

"It's a wonder you two are even related." Another voice called from the door. To his credit Elros for once was in no mood for games. "Come on you! This is the second time already I've found you where you shouldn't be!"

"Well I am a palace guard and this is part of the palace-"

"Get a move on!" Elros interrupted in exasperation. "If only you had half your brothers ambition and a fourth of his wit!"

With a good dose of grumbling and arguing the two made their way from the room, leaving Idhrenir to laugh in peace. Fully refreshed, Idhrenir himself rose and once again made his way into the city. For a moment the thought occurred to him that he might meet his prince in the library and check upon his wellbeing. But Idhrenir brushed it away. He wished to have met with Celebrimbor before his next meeting with Thranduil. There was a thought that plagued him, worming it's way deep within and leaving a gaping hole of doubt in its wake. What he thought he had seen the night before disturbed him; yet more concerning was the thought that perhaps he was wrong. As of yet he had not spoken with any - not even Feren - concerning it; for it was a grave thing to level a charge of sorcery against any let alone a maia from the Blessed Lands. Such a thing would reflect poorly not only on himself but his Lord and stir up unnecessary - even damaging - rumor and intrigue whether it was true or not. And though Idhrenir would scarcely have felt pity at Annatar's misery ( indeed the mere thought of it brought the faintest quirk of a smile to his face ) he could no more endanger his lord than he could sell his own soul.

Once more Idhrenir began the hunt, asking any who would hearken where Celebrimbor might be found. Near the closing of the day, just as the sun began to sink low in the West Idhrenirs efforts were rewarded. The elf-lord was near the front lawn, by the fountains. Eagerly, Idhrenir rushed to meet him but as he came to the last turn he suddenly checked his speed. Through the wide covered walkway, peering between pillars of carven white stone he could see two figures near the fountain and a wave of apprehension filled him.

I cannot speak to the Lord with Annatar right at his side! Idhrenir lamented, knowing full well that even if they removed themselves from his sight that Annatar would quickly trace any inquiry into his character back to the Silvan; something Idhrenir wanted desperately to avoid.

Still, perhaps the meeting would be a short one. So standing in the shadows Idhrenir waited and hoped that the malevolent maia would pursue some other business before long. Far as he was he could not quite hear the words that were spoken, yet some note in Celebrimbors voice spoke of hot anger and Annatars was scarcely cooler. When the elf's voice halted Celebrimbor spun quickly away and Idhrenir moved to enter the yard. Yet before he had taken even a single step Annatar moved like lightning, one hand snatching Celebrimbors shoulder and roughly spinning him around so that they were face to face while the other grabbed his jaw with a tense, possessive grip.

Startling enough as that was to Idhrenir he felt a bloom of indignation flare within him as the motion revealed the flashing skin of Celebrimbors throat - mottled red and violet with the patchwork of fresh bruising and all at once the stable-masters words returned. Faster than flight he crossed the length of the causeway and turned into the small courtyard. The sound of his foot-fall preceded him and before he arrived Celebrimbor and Annatar had parted, each standing aloof and tense with accusing eyes leveled at one another.

"My lords." Idhrenir greeted, though his jaw was set with anger. "Long have I been searching for you. Lord Celebrimbor my master wishes to see you as soon as possible."

"Surely it can wait." Annatar snarled quickly.

"It is most assuredly urgent." Idhrenir snapped and a flush of surprise flickered across the maia's face. Celebrimbor moved at once, heading toward the covered walkway. "I will meet with him now. He is in his quarters I presume?"

"Of course my lord." Idhrenir replied, a heavy weight lifting from his chest. From his place near the fountain Annatar recovered himself.

"And of our conversation my lord-"

"I have spoken all I need to you." Celebrimbor declared, halting on the step to glare balefully at the maia. "And you have nothing more to say to me."

"You cannot simply walk away-"

"I am Lord of Eregion, Annatar and this is my abode. I will do as I damn well please! Forget not that you are a guest in my halls and kindly conduct yourself accordingly!" Face set with anger Celebrimbor hurried from the courtyard, robes snapping behind him in the wake of his haste, his heels clacking noisily on the stones and fading into silence.

Now here Idhrenir made a terrible error, for in telling this small lie he had opened the door to Celebrimbors departure - and had he followed hard on the lords heels have suffered nothing for it. But in shock he stood yet, watching the retreating form of the elf-lord and knowing he had averted some vile abuse he let a triumphant smirk cross his face and this was his undoing. For though it was done as he turned to leave Annatar nonetheless caught the motion.

Just as Idhrenir reached the step; mind already turning in an effort to find a cover for his lie, pain sharp as a spear through his heart stopped him and clutching at his tightening chest he sank hard into the stone rail with gasping breaths. Blood pulsed in his ears, his head throbbed as if locked in an ever-tightening vice and his body shook and legs buckled, refusing to hold him any longer. Falling hard to the stone stair Idhrenir desperately tried to pull air into his burning lungs to clear his darkening vision. Through deafening ears echoed the sudden cackles of gathering crows and below their raucous calls he could just barely hear the low throaty murmur of black words on the wind.

Now Idhrenir turned as much as pain would allow, glaring furiously at Annatar who approached with slow steps, his face set with a sadistic smile and eyes glowing with a hellish light in the darkening dusk as above him black birds wheeled on a fell wind.

"My dear Idhrenir, are you quite alright? You seem to be in some distress." Slowly Annatar lowered himself to kneel beside the elf and his countenance was filled with a black joy. "Let me help you, dear elfling."

Yet Idhrenir would not yield so easily and as Annatar reached for him Idhrenir struck the hand away, gasping for air as he was. "Wh...what...have...you..."

A laugh rumbled in Annatars chest. "So full of spirit! But you should be wary of how you move Idhrenir-" Here Annatar lightly stroked the elf's cheek in a delicate caress a moment before his hand came to rest lightly on the elfs chest. "You might hurt yourself."

Idhrenir for a moment imagined in his crescendoing agony that perhaps his beating heart had been ripped from him. Light failed and he fell into pain and oblivion tethered only by the rippling of a sweet voice whispering foul sorcery.