[Imladris]

Jynne narrowed his black eyes at the struggling elves and Snow men. For being surprisingly swift in escaping, they were taking their sweet time to creep across the ice. They probably suspected something...a hovering danger. He frowned. It was a curse to all parties concerned. The elves, of course, were always haunted with it while the lurking enemy never caught them fully unawares. He smiled grimly. Elves were never happy. Their death would finish their unlived lives.

The captain leaped from his hiding place and rushed upon the struggling Snowmen and elves. With a soft hiss, Jynne leaped from the snow, whipping the dagger from his belt. He slipped across the snow, sliding to a stop beside a rope that dangled into a drilled hole. Within a Snowman thrashed. Fear contorted his face. Screams, strangled by the icy water's clutching fingers, ripped from his throat.

Jynne gently, almost tenderly, picked up the rope, and fondled it in his fingers, smiling softly at the Snowman.

He stopped his screaming, and just looked the Corsair.

"Can you feel death approach?" whispered Jynne.

The Snowman glared at him.

"Maybe if you beg and grovel, I will save you," said Jynne with a leer.

The Snowman flung his spit at Jynne.

"Such nobleness," Jynne said silkily. "Have you ever noticed that nobility is often the sword plunged within a brave man's heart?" Jynne, with a slash of his knife, severed the rope.