[Child of the 7th Age]

Lindir opened his mouth to protest while trying to push himself foward on his knees, struggling to stand erect. Surely, he could be more than a useless piece of baggage! The Elf put a hand on the stone ledge and leaned against the wall in an effort to steady himself and then slowly sought to clamber upward. For one reckless instant, he seemed to be successful. Then a wave of dizzying nausea descended, exploding inside his head, as the ground tilted precariously back and forth. Orëmir quickly reached out to grab onto Lindir's arm and steady his companion.

With a sigh of disappointment, the injured elf sank back to the ground. "Orëmir is right," Lindir gasped. "I am useless like this. Lómwë, go now with Endamir to search for this Diviner, whoever or whatever he is. And my sympathies go with you both. Would that I could also come to help! But do not take undue risks for my account. This place is filled with strange spirits and noises. And the sooner we leave here, the better."

Lindir shuddered slightly as he turned back to speak with Orëmir and whispered in a low voice, "In truth, I do not like talk of this Diviner. What kind of madness is this? To try to see the future? For what else can a Diviner do? I do not see how he can help me. I have no wish to die on this rocky isle. Indeed, I no longer have a wish even to sail off to the West. But perhaps, it would be best if you simply took me back to the shore, and I will take my chances with the healing breezes that sometimes blow in from the Sea. Then we may push off again. Or is Malris still so intent to find out the mystery of that broken down keep that he can not tear himself away? No good will come of it, I fear."