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Merisuwyniel stood her ground, both repulsed by and strangely attracted to the handsome face she saw before her. Yet she was still aware enough of her own self to realize that this so seductive person was not bringing out the best in her. While she fought to regain her normally cool, poised demeanour, she heard a voice echoing in her mind.
“He looks fair and feels foul,” it said. It was the familiar voice of the Entish Bow, now fighting to save its own life after so valiantly defending hers. “All that is rhinestone does not glitter, not all those who disco are king,” it continued. “Remember the Alamo, remember your mother, remember Gravlox, remember anything else, but forget about him!”
At those words another face appeared before her mind’s eye, a face that looked foul, but felt inexpressively fair to her. She gasped; so real did it seem that she reached out to caress the cheeks, strangely more cleanly shaven than she remembered them. Those eyes, so tenderly loving their gaze… That gorgeous hair, softly waving in the breeze… Those manly hands, now well-manicured, so adept to touch her in more ways than she had time to recall now… And a soft, smooth voice spoke to her of everlasting love, never-ending passion, and the advantages of joint tax returns.
The two voices strove within her. For a moment, perfectly balanced between their piercing sounds, she writhed, tormented. Suddenly she was aware of herself again. Merisuwyniel, neither the wooden voice nor the smooth-talking one: free to choose, and with one remaining instant in which to do so.
The musical voice was not that of her deceased beloved. Flattering as its tones were, they jarred with the voice indelibly etched into her memory, and the spell was broken. She raised her lovely golden head, her beautiful eyes gazed with great clarity and strength into Môgul’s, and her melodious voice called out, “The words of this Velour stand on their heads! In the language of Môgul, help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain. Do not offer what is not yours to give, Bildur! If Emu wills, I may see my beloved again someday. If not, still I will not forsake the Quest that has been entrusted to me. Begone, foul Dwimmerlaik! Go now and never come back!”
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