[Imladris]

Lira opened her eyes and rose from the floor. Looking behind her she, she saw a shell of skin, a corpse with the neck at an odd angle. Her corpse. That she was dead did not matter to Lira, for she was fëa now. Before the thought had sunk into her, she became aware of dark presence in the room. Black arrogance mingled with scorn assaulted her and, turning, she saw a dread being stand between two of the black pillars, bound to them by strands not of bodily making, as if the very essence of the spirit had been used to hold it as a slave there, at the beck and call of the Master. It was not a balrog, but some other spawn of evil .

Lifting her hands, Lira cried, "You will not harm me nor my friends!"

The spirit laughed. Cold and harsh it was upon her ears, like sharpened blades upon her skin, wounding her, weakening her. "What can you do to me?" the spirit asked. "I am under the power of the Master!"

The Master ...suddenly, Lira realized who he was, and wondered why she had not known it before. The Master was the Lieutenant of Sauron, the Dark Numenorean who had forgotten his own name and entity in his vile service: The Mouth of Sauron. Lira's heart quailed and she wavered.

She could feel the spirit envelope her, gnawing at her as the ocean gnaws at the rocks, grinding them to dust. She fought against and cried, "He will be defeated again! The dark cannot stand against the light!"

The Spirit laughed again, mocking her, like poison in a wound. "You cannot defeat him!"

Yes, he could not be defeated...he was a new Dark Lord, the bearer of Sauron's name. He was destroy the Shire, a vengeance for the destruction of his lord, and from there spill the blood of Arda's inhabitants upon the land, making it a wasteland fit for a dark lord. Not man nor elf could stand in his way.. As she saw the destruction in her minds eye, and remembering all that she had learned, she drew herself up and, clinging to a single thought, cried, "He will be defeated as he was defeated upon the Morannon before the Black Gate by Mithrandir the White!"

The Spirit almost snorted in disgust and said, "But he was not truly defeated was he? He has now come back, stronger than before. Before this day is out, he will drink your blood as well as the blood of your companions. He cannot be defeated." He gestured toward the alter.

Her last hope dashed, Lira felt a tidal wave of fear, mingled with hopelessness, drown her. She struggled with it, grappled with it, but it became stronger -- a leering monster. Stretching out her arms in supplication and defiance, she cried, " Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!"