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Malris nodded at Tasa's request; it lifted a weight from his mind. He had been wondering himself about the wisdom of combining the beauty of the present with that of the past. Standing with golden Tasareni in his and Giledhel's room; it would have been confusing, even upsetting.
Another part of him hoped that the memories he was about to stir up would remind him of his duties as an Elf and a husband; would drive back what he felt for Tasa, had felt for Tasa increasingly over the last day. With such thoughts mingling in his head, he crossed the threshold into the place where he had last been happy, and fulfilled; glancing up to the carving of his and Giledhel's combined insignia in the lintel.
Of course, the bastion was no uplifting sight now. Loose blocks of stone. Cobwebs and dust. Stairs that looked as dangerous to navigate as those of Moria were said to be...
And circling shadows further up. Were those bats, Malris thought with a flicker of horror?
Caw, caw, caw. The Ravensong. Malris remembered a strange conversation-but what conversations were not strange between those brilliant minds?-that the Sons of Feanor had had, as they stood on the wall and watched birds descending on corpses of Orcs ambushed as they passed the fortress...
"What do you suppose the Orcs think of Raven-cries?" Maglor had asked quietly. When Maglor spoke quietly, he could be heard by any who cared to listen to him.
"Perhaps they delight in them," Curufin had suggested.
"That would be the logical conclusion, to distance them from us," Celegorm agreed coldly.
"I don't trust logic," Maedhros muttered. "Look at those birds tearing at those corpses. Remember that someday they may tear at ours."
"So the ravens remind Orcs, too, of the perishable nature of flesh?" Curufin remarked mischievously. "What philosophers our enemies must be..."
In any case, the shadows here were ravens, that was clear, not bats.
Curious and unnerving...they seemed to be nearing him...
Malris instinctively ducked as the largest, blackest scavenger dived at his head, and threw himself on the ground.
"Off! Off, corpse-eaters!"
He drew himself up in half a second, expecting them to be shooed away. But as if drawn by magnets, they veered about, going for the eyes...
"Cirlach! This blade is faster than you are!" Malris cried, hoping his boast was true, as the sword of Curufin's craft shone brilliant red.
It was a near thing. Sometimes the sword would outpace the ravens, and a corpse would fall. Sometimes the ravens would outpace the sword, and a talon would scratch. But the ravens always seemed to return, an accursed, aggressive trinity. Backing into a corner, Malris saw what was unmistakably an Orc-gleam in the eyes of the murder of ravens' leader.
So it was that Tasa heard a desperate osanwe appeal.
Tasa, this sounds ludicrous, but I believe I'm struggling with Coavalta in crow form...I need your aid...just like the Nirnaeth...
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