[Anguirel]

Malris looked hard into Orëmir's eyes, and found there nothing he could understand, try as might. He smiled to cover his incomprehension, hoping that the past Age would not have taken Endamir beyond him too; the brother he had always been closer to.

"All the splendour of Himring may be gone now, but she is clean of the Enemy, at least. I have...we all have...so much to settle there. In the courtyard rot the catapultas and ballistae I helped fire at our own walls. The blades and armour warriors who bought a little time with their hroar rust in the dirt. But there are happier memories there too, of the days of success. How can we recreate a new life of contentment in the West or Endor if contentment has forgotten us? I want to relearn our glories...to go to Tol Eressea proud that I toiled in the North. Why, my marriage bed is in that ruin somewhere."

At some point, he realised he was speaking to both the brothers; not just the one who had argued with him. But a familiar presence cut him short, and as he looked up in anticipation he smiled. A golden head he had not seen for so very long; a gap wider even than the divide that lay between Malris and the twins. But a friend of the heart nonetheless; and on her side, he had always known, rather more. A pity; one of the many Elven loves that could bear no fruit. But still, he had always felt a kinship with her; and her defection after the Nirnaeth had piled a new wound on the gash of his wife's loss.

"Tasa. Welcome. I thought you would answer...I was sure of it. One such as you cannot stay a handmaid forever...particularly if the rumours are true, and Artanis grows weary of Middle-earth herself."

As Lómwë joined her, Malris nodded to him. What quaint Nandorin garb he seemed to prefer nowadays. "You also lift my heart, friend. Now we only awaint Lindir, of Lindon, as am I...and he has not far to travel. Soon you will see the most beautiful facet of the Ghostbearer."