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Lómwë had started to take off after the others, his steps heavy. Why did he still try? Would it do any good? Not for him… he was beyond all help that could be found in this place, but perhaps it would help Endamir Then he realized that Tasarënì was still standing by, looking somewhat lost and disinclined to go anywhere. He hesitated; the rest were disappearing down the hallway; he ought to follow them. Maybe there was some way that he could help make things right, to at least partly compensate for his lack of faith. But perhaps Tasa needed help as much as Endamir, if only in a different way. At any rate, he could not leave her here; none of them could be certain of the place’s safety.
He walked quickly back to her and urged her gently, “Come, Tasa; we should follow them. Endamir needs help, and it may not be safe to remain out here.” Somehow telling it to Tasa made him believe it more.
She nodded slowly. “Very well.” Without further discussion, Lómwë led the way down the hallway where he had seen them go. As they drew near, Lindir’s and Malris' words drifted out to them.
“It is true, Endamir,” Lómwë added as he crowded the doorway. “We are on your side.” Sides should never have been needed to be drawn in the first place… why the blood? Why the division? Yet so it had been, even before they had crossed the sea to Beleriand. For that was where the despair and the defeat came from – from choosing sides and fighting amongst themselves.
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