[Ithaeliel]

Endereth's eyes were red from crying, and they were closed. She lay on the stone, half-dead, for since she had managed to block the wizard's grasp on her sight he had derived his sick pleasure from tormenting her. Her tunic was sliced open in places on her back from the harsh blows of a fiery whip, not unlike the whips of the Valaraukar. The gleaming mailcoat she wore underneath prevented her flesh from being cut, but the impact of it made her skin raw and burned. O Iluvatar, will no one succour me? Now two days have I been in his keeping; and not since before the battle against the Barrow-wights have I had a bite.

As the tireless flame bore down on her again, Ender cried out for despair, but despite her condition a spark of wile came to her. "O Mandos, if thou truly favor me in life that thou would suffer me to see inside thy dwelling, favor me also in death and have mercy: let me go to you! For I fear that I soon shall," she said loudly enough for her tormentor to hear.

The material black beast-- for that was what Ender guessed he was-- stopped in the midst of raising his whip to strike again. "What sayeth thee?"

Ender managed to turn and face him, her eyes still squeezed shut. She echoed her thoughts to him, save that of succour. The dark being had mercy. He lowered his whip. "Then take some of this waybread I have found from your belongings, and eat it quickly!" he spat, tossing a wafer of lembas her way. "I will not suffer thee to die, Endereth of Lothlórien. Thy companions may think so, yet they are unwise: for even now they come for thee, thinking thy life endangered. But then thy magic will be gone with thee to Mandos."

Ender sat up in amazement, the lembas filling her stomach and giving her strength, as she saw five moving figures cross ino the forest. It would soon be over, for better or for worse.