|
Amroth did not move. He gazed straight ahead. Beside him, Erebemlin and Taitheneb sat like statues, listening to the king's mind.
I befriended her. I guarded her. I watched her. I wooed her. I received her troth-pledge. I have waited for her and sought for her, replied Amroth. What have you done? Have you treated her as you have treated this mortal girl? Poisoned her? Misled her, isolated her, lied to her, tormented her? I know that you have lied to me, and misled me; and now you have this woman at your mercy-- such as you have. Were I ever to consider releasing Nimrodel from our vow, should I yield her to one such as you? Should I allow her to consort with such poison?
Erebemlin could see the swamp-elf's face tighten, and the knuckles of his knife-hand turned white.
Amroth's thoughts turned to the girl. He could taste her fear, feel her tears. This is the respect that you show womankind? To bind them, threaten them, hold them at knifepoint? You threaten death to one who can be no threat to you. You have no mercy, no compassion, no conscience. I shall never yield to one such as you. And I will die a thousand more deaths before I yield my Nimrodel to you.
Taitheneb, listening, heard the girl weep; heard the Merlocks slavering. Surely Amroth would take some step to preserve the girl's life? He waited for some sign, some signal. He and Erebemlin tensed, ready for a joint assault on the mind of the swamp-elf.
Even if you silence the elf, those with him can hurt her. What are you thinking?
Erebemlin started; Taitheneb paled. Amroth's eyes had clouded, his gaze faltered. "My lord...?"
Amroth did not move. The elves' minds wavered.
He has never hurt Nimrodel; he will not hurt her now. Yield to him! Free my sister now.
Never hurt her? Mortal, does a thousand years of madness mean nothing to you? Can you not see death as a gift?
What, will you spend my sister's blood on this?
Would you have me spend the long ages of Nimrodel's life?
You are mad.
Had you seen the ages pass as I have, you would not think so.
As you cherish Nimrodel, I will risk no harm to my sister.
Silence.
Free my sister!
As he torments your sister, he has tormented Nimrodel for a thousand years. I say again, death is a gift.
Not one I want for my sister. Have him release her.
He asks too much.
Yield! Give him what he wants!
Never.
Yield to him!
No.
Beads of sweat formed on Amroth's brow, and Erebemlin watched wide-eyed. Taitheneb, with an effort, pushed back at the swamp-elf; but his will was fading. Amroth swayed, clutching at Echo's mane, and bowed over his horses' neck.
Ravion spurred forward. "Tell them to spare her!"
Erebemlin and Taitheneb turned, pulling at their king's mind, trying to gain a foothold for him and bring him back; but they met only Mellondu.
"Tell him to spare my sister, " said the blacksmith through clenched teeth.
|