[piosenniel]

A little fire burned brightly on the grassy sward where the four Elves had gathered. They were waiting for Malris and Tasa to appear, to give the two the news of their day’s successful adventure and a task well done.

The darkness of the night seemed natural now, and not a projection of the spirits, beneficent as well as malevolent who had inhabited the decaying fortress all these years. There were no whisperings in the darker corners to trouble thoughts. The companions were tired; resting on their bedrolls and only the hiss and crackle of the wood they had gathered broke the silent evening.

That . . . and the song which had just reverberated through the night’s air.

‘Sounds to me as if he old songster is singing of them,’ said Endamir, rousing up on one elbow as the words hung in the air and then began to fade. ‘And tonight it seems to be about our absent companions.’ He had told no one of the handclasp he had seen between the two, nor the grudging reluctance of Malris that he and Tasa should have been intruded upon.

Now to the West speeds Giledhel . . .

‘Fair winds and a following sea to you, dear Lady,’ he whispered, glad that she had been one of the sprits freed from the island. She had always been gracious to him, the times he had been in her company.

Though her brave lord yet lives . . . ‘So Malris must be alive still; the song at least concirms that, no?’ He sat up completely, listening closer as the last strains blew away in the night’s breeze.

He and the maid bide in my sight
Encaged unless they delve . . .

Endamir rose to his feet, a worried look on his face. ‘You don’t suppose they’ve gotten caught in some cave-in in this wreck of a place, do you?’ He looked toward the shadowy fallen blocks of stone that had once been the fortress’ walls. ‘Is the singer saying they will need to dig themselves out, do you think, or that we should be looking for them to free them?’