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Malris was sunk in reflection, though whether on Endamir's words, or on some thing else, the spirits, the fortress, or some stirred memory, was difficult to say. Tasa's anxious question seemed to recall him from wherever he had wandered.
"All six of us are here," he observed, "and I think we have all had enough of the hospitality of the houseless ones." He rose his wiry body to its feet and walked over to the doorway, his steps firm, his gaze decided; he took hold of the handle and dragged the gate he held back to its shut position, while Tasa handled the other. Oremir slammed the great iron bolt through.
"Whether lock of frost-bitten iron will be enough to stop visitors I cannot tell," muttered Malris. "But one would hope the remnants of the garrison still respect the laws of entry and exit. We have a grate, at least; perhaps we could prize apart one of these chairs and get a fire going."
He was aware that his speech had been relentlessly practical. So he had intended it. He needed more time to think about Endamir's remark; and, by Elbereth, they all needed time. So much had happened on this first day and night on Himring; a pause for thought was nothing short of vital. Arrangements for a fire and perhaps a little supper would allow them a measure of comfort as they chewed over the past while, even as Tasa chewed over her meat. Meanwhile, he would try to reassure the company by telling them the little he remembered about a Diviner...
"The Lord Maedhros did employ a soothsayer," he said slowly, "towards the end of our time in Himring. He was...if I am right, he was a sort of joke, a buffoon. Maedhros made a show of consulting him with immense seriousness, and then we would laugh at his replies..." His voice trailed away.
"As for the Seneschal, several of you must remember him. A good, plain-speaking soldier, utterly loyal, he was called Idrahil, yes, Idrahil...he wouldn't leave the hill, he said it had been his home more than Tirion had ever been." He sighed. "And so we lost him in the retreat..." His voice choked, a nearer loss wiping Idrahil from his mind; but he swallowed his sorrow. From his pack he took some of the salmon from the night before-the cold had kept it well-as well as his other provisions. Even the Quendi needed sustenance and sleep, all the more so when they were so fraught with memory.
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