[Child of the 7th Age]

Body and feä finally reunited, the "real" Lindir drifted in and out of hazy consciousness. The profuse bleeding from his wound had slowed. For a moment he had actually struggled to his feet, stared evenly at Malris and deftly refastened his silver brooch. He had taken a small drink of water and listened to gentle words of welcome from a friend. But then something had happened and his body had given way, leaving him in a crumpled heap in the midst of his companions. A dull, thudding ache still knawed at Lindir's side, marking the spot where he had tumbled down and met the edge of the jagged rock. Yet this physical wound, by itself, could not account for the inner pain and weariness and the conflicted feelings that now poured into his heart.

All the sadness of a lifetime--wrong choices, misunderstandings, times when he had purposely turned away when he should have looked more closely-- flooded back over his feä. It was not that Lindir had led such an evil life. The Elf had been an honorable craftsman and then an honorable scout but he had seen too much evil and sadness to be wholly unaffected. Still, there was clearly something else at work. Something tugged at his feä as if determined to pull him onward; only this time it was not in the direction of the crumbled fortress. A thick mist threatened to envelope him and pull him downward through a very long tunnel. At the end of the tunnel was a thickly draped curtain. Somehow Lindir sensed that if he took one step past that doorway he would never return to Arda again.

One piece of his head cooly counselled that he should simply stop fighting and pass through the hazy curtain. After all, he was going on a ship to the West. This might be the long way around, but the path through Mandos would eventually get him to the same place. In Mandos, he could sit and reflect on his life, come to terms with what he had seen and done, and finally learn to accept that reality. At that point, it was said Elves were redirected back within the circles of the world and reunited with their kin in the West. This was not such a terrible fate.

Still, another voice whispered words of warning. You're not done, Lindir. Your time in Arda is not yet over. You have not learned everything within your grasp or understood much of what has happened to you. Who are you? A craftsman or a scout? You can not even answer that question. Only the lazy wait for Mandos to make their decisions for them.

Lindir hesitated for an instant, wondering which way to turn. But it was only for an instant. The realization of what he had done and failed to do was too compelling to ignore. It was not yet time! Not for Mandos, nor even for the West. What a self-centered fool he had been, focusing on an ancient helm rather than the pain of those old friends who were travelling with him. With a great effort of will, Lindir scrambled to hold his body and feä together, resisting the implacable force that was intent on pushing him down the tunnel and through that misty doorway.