The sky reeled. The mountains shook. The earth trembled. Or so it seemed to Tinuiel and the group of elves as the hooded figures drew ever closer.
The walls of dream and reality began to mingle. Tinuiel slipped deeper and deeper into the vision, until she no longer was aware that any other place existed but the current world of pain and horror. The walls of the quiet chamber were gone. Mornovarion lay tossing and turning, bathed in a sheen of sweat. Tinuiel lay across him--unconscious. Her raven hair fell across them both like a blanket. Her face was wet with tears and twisted with pain.
The first red streaks of dawn fell on the pair and seemed to wash them with blood.
__________________
Such lissom limbs no more shall run
on the green earth beneath the sun;
so fair a maid no more shall be
from dawn to dusk, from sun to sea.
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