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For a long time Malris continued to stare into the night, as if hoping to scry notes his ears could no longer detect. He started to plead, in a low voice, but it would be apparent to the others that he was his own interlocutor.
"We could climb by starlight, by Varda's own lamps and the Silmaril...to find Maglor. Maglor, whose like I thought had left the world entirely...but the others are tired, and with good reason...you too, you hunger after the salmon and a little rest. Is it cowardice? Weakness?" he asked, his voice growing louder again. "Or sound sense that bids them retreat and await the coming of Arien?"
"I..." He began again, turning now to Tasa and Endamir, close behind him. "I would try a little of the ascent alone, to test the rocks, as it were. Stay here...please."
Like an eager mountain cat, he soon found holds for his hands and feet. He climbed a few yards over the crags; then felt the water-warping of the rocks beneath him. He was unsure of his way now...he stretched out a hand to an outcrop; and felt a pain, a stap in it...he was bleeding. A strong, chill wind rushed over his head, and he was sure he felt a tug on his hair.
Bowing his head in submission, he slipped gracefully down. "I confess the path is thin, eroded in places, and difficult to follow. And besides..." He changed his mind. He would keep the secret of the malevolent wind, and attribut the stab to a jagged rock. He need not depress his friends further.
"And besides, the stones are sharp. Let us return to the fire and roast another salmon on it, ere we walk the lands of Lorien in sleep, that soon we shall see again in waking." He smiled confidently at the others. "I know I heard Maglor's voice; and I know it will come back. He will come back. Perhaps that is why we are here. To finish a mysterious end of the Music."
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