"Would you like to be barbecued, Lady Galadriel," came the whisper on the night-wind,
"or slow roasted?"
"Who said that?" Galadriel demanded, starting to her feet. But nothing moved on her
flet, or in the branches around her. Only the
mallorn leaves rustled faintly, as if stirred by the lightest of breezes.
Her nostrils twitched. The smell was faint, but surely it was the acrid smell of burning wood?
Rarely had the Lady been gripped by fear, but now it was like a chill hand closing about her throat.
"Show yourself, foul creature of darkness! Or if you are Nimrodel, end this folly-"
She broke off, coughing, for a wisp of smoke had drifted into her lungs. By the time she had recovered from her paroxysm, it was too late: roaring flames had leapt up all over her
flet. Galadriel ran to the stairway, but it, too, was alight, a wall of fire beating her back. Soon the entire
mallorn had become a pillar of flame.
~~~~~~
The Living
Lottie
Farael
Rikae
Coppermirror
Kitanna
The Dead
Nerwen, throat torn out Night One. (Mod).
Tar-Jêx, thrown off a flet Day One. (Ranger/Lover).
Boro, dragged under by a swan-submarine Night Two. (Ordo).
McCaber, choked on lembas Day Two. (Ordo).
Aganzir, shot with bow-and-arrow Night Three. (Werewolf).
Shasta, hanged with Elven rope Day Three. (Werewolf).
Sally, barbecued Night Four. (Seer).
It is now Day Four.