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Endamir could hear the chink – chink that rang off the stones. And at first he thought that it was the sound of stone tumbling against itself. But it was too regular in rhythm.
He put his hand out against the underground corridors wall. The stone was smooth, intact, unlike the unfortunate stones of the above-ground fortress that had been battered down by the battles and the elements. In a way, it relieved him that this part of Maedhros’ stand against the Darkness from the North still stood solid. It was as if the fëar of the Noldor still shown out brightly against the deep shadows of those awful days.
At least he hoped it was something of Elvenkind or of their allies that kept the way below the fortress whole.
‘I can’t say what it might be, Orëmir. I have no “feeling”, good or ill, at present to tell me what to do. ‘I say, though, let’s proceed with caution. Our weapons near to hand.’
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