[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Thoronmir's encounter with Herugor went unnoticed by Inzillomì, though seeing her husband slump to the floor did not. Just as she had positioned herself in the rear of the group, an arm had pulled her into shadows, hand blocking a scream that never would have escaped her lips even without it. The moment she was released she turned, hands ready to find purchase. The figure was Târik. She did not untense.

"My lady," he murmered quickly, bowing deep. "I was fooled. It seems that I have been... watched. But if I may," his speech was even faster, though still quite clear and quiet. "there is a way to escape, if you will trust me."

Inzillomì did not hesitate to tell him in no uncertain terms that to trust in a man who wore the uniform of the enemy, who had already once led them astray, and who no word had ever reached her well-informed ears of, was folly that not even their desperate group could fall to, most especially in such a tricky situation.

However as she spoke and as the situation became ever more dangerous outside of the shadows, something in the young man's eyes spoke to her of his intentions. Before he could respond to her quiet tirade, she lay a hand on his arm and nodded. Unquestionable relief lit his features at her consent, and ascertained her decision; she slid from the shadows with one upraised finger to him; just one moment.

She laid a hand invisible to the rest on Azarmanô's lower back. She felt him tense before she whispered to him. Her voice calmed him and he was able to keep attention on the scene before him. "I have found escape. Please take my husband and follow on my call." She felt rather than heard him agree, the stakes being too high for him not to, before moving on to Thoronmir, repeating the process with a request for him to release Marsillion. In her black gown, dirty though it was, she moved through the shadowed place unnoticed. She doubted any knew of her presence save her companions. The flickering torchlight was certainly not enough to illuminate her. She did not see Abarzadan and could not tell if he was present.

"Now!" she called, ducking into shadow once more. Thoronmir attacked Marsillion's guards ferociously, securing his release in a matter of seconds. He kept guard as Marsillion cut Kâthaanî free, and Tiru. Azarmanô retrieved the unconscious Abârpânarú, slinging him unceremoniously, though admittedly carefully, over his shoulder. Inzillomì stepped from the shadows once more, beckoning, and the group followed, Thoronmir last, moving backward, with his sword sweeping. No archers had appeared, quite thankfully, and he was able to hold off the few guards that attempted to follow Herugor's shrieked orders.

Târik whispered in Inzillomì's ear. "This way, lady." She took the hand of her daughter and followed, trusting that her companions would be immediately behind. Within seconds, the group had disappeared into a hole in the shadows. A nearly inaudible sliding signified the way being closed behind them. Târik reappeared by her side with a single lit torch and led them hurriedly down, ever down. The pathway was damp, cold, and turning. He passed paths on both sides, following an unpredictable route to an unknown destination. The only sound was that of footsteps. The ground shook slightly, reminding them of the unsafe nature of their escape route. To be caught underground as the earth shook itself free of tension... they thrust the thoughts from their minds, though not entirely. Though none spoke, the weight of the air laid heavily on them all.

With a final left turn, the light suddenly spread. Where before it was limited to a passage perhaps four feet across and eight high, the torchlight flared into a space large enough for the group to halt all together. A figure in a dark cloak stood shadowed before them, looking to the floor. A larger figure, also cloaked, stood two steps behind, seeming to loom in the tricky illumination. The party halted, the men reaching for what weapons they carried.

Târik stepped forward with a deep bow, standing aside with a waved gesture toward the group. Thoronmir stepped toward Târik, anger in his eyes. He grasped the hilt of his weapon, mercy absent from his gaze. A stranger's voice pierced the moment.

The first cloaked figure spoke with a voice both melodious, low, and fair. "That is quite enough. Do you not believe the peril of the Faithful to be great enough without turning upon your allies?" Inzillomì looked at Târik with a deep respect and not a little surprise before curtsying deeply before the lady, Tar Miriel. The group responded similarly, though a step behind, save for Azarmanô, whose load did not quite warrant a full bow, though his nod conveyed the same respect. "Faithful Târik, would you?" she asked cryptically, and he nodded, giving his light away to the now unthreatening Thoronmir and disappearing from view. "He leaves to retrieve your mounts." she nodded to Inzillomì. "There is time, though not much. You are safe here, for now. Rest. My lady, would you please honor me with a private moment?"

Inzillomì nodded reassuringly to her daughter, releasing her hand for the first time since she had first grasped it. The group relaxed slightly, Azarmanô carefully laying Abârpânarú upon a blanket that Tiru spread upon the cold floor. They spoke quietly amongst themselves as the women disappeared into shadow. The second figure had disappeared, and the men worried of him, but accepted Inzillomì's leadership.

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The shadows seemed comforting rather than suffocating as Inzillomì followed Miriel out of sight. Though they had never met, Abârpânarú had spoken to Miriel many times of his wife. Inzillomì knew that Abârpânarú had had a history with the great woman, and that he loved her dearly, but also that he loved Inzi more than life itself. She examined her feelings as she walked in silence. She had considered what this meeting would be before, were it ever to occur, but she had always seen her husband present, as well as, she must admit, lighter circumstances surrounding it. She had believed that she would feel jealous, perhaps... uncertain of the situation. Now, she simply felt relieved that she could relax her authority for a time. She felt an inexplicable bond to this fascinating woman. They halted, black garb swirling about their feet at the sudden stop. They even looked somewhat alike, clad darkly, though in the pitch dark of the passage, they could not see each other.

Miriel took Inzillomì's hand in her own. "I only wish this meeting could have taken place under different circumstances. I have seen you many times, though we were never introduced." Inzillomì nodded, understanding completely.

"My lady," she asked quietly. "I thank you for your aid. But why do we tarry? Though I have long desired to make your acquaintance, the very earth tells me that we do not have long." Miriel understood her as the ground shook once more.

"It is because of this." From the depths of her robes, Miriel produced a heavy object wrapped in black silks. Inzillomì took it, surprised at the weight. "Though I desired to meet you before... now... the time has come when it could no longer be delayed. You know as well as I that our fair lands shall not... the Valar are angry, and with reason. Your father Elendil awaits you at Romenna."

Inzillomì understood. She could feel the tremors deep in her heart, even without feeling them through her body.

Miriel spoke once more, quickly now. "I give to you a palantir." Inzillomì's sharp intake of breath punctuated the statement. "I have long hidden it from the king... it mustn't be lost to the world. I entrust you with this, Inzillomì Elendili, wife of he that I love. Will you take this burden and guard it, accompanying it to the safety of Middle Earth? I would have given it to Mabalar... however he is otherwise occupied." Sensing the question, Miriel explained quickly. "He is alive, and he is well. I have provided him with time. The dark lord prefers his victims awake and in good health when the torture begins." She spat the last words with hatred. "With Mabalar unconscious, he would not be able to respond to pain. He will awaken in some hours."

Inzillomì turned this new responsibility over in her mind. "Great lady, have no fear. I will not leave this fair isle without what you have entrusted me with stewardship of."

"Then we must return before your menfolk become over-anxious to discover our maidenly secrets, no?" Inzillomì laughed at this, tucking the palantir into a deep pocket and taking Miriel's hand once more.

"Will you not sail with us? You could be saved from the doom of Numenor--"

Miriel interrupted her softly. "Nay, lady. It is not my doom. I shall remain. Come."

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The men looked up from their quiet discussion as the women returned to the room.

"Come." spoke Inzillomì. "We must depart." She looked expectantly at Miriel, once again illuminated by torchlight. The great lady beckoned from the shadows the other figure that had seemed to disappear before. He pushed his hood from his face, revealing to Azarmanô the face of the shopkeep that had observed his charade as a guard.

"Moizandû will lead you from this place."