After the brightness of daylight, the tunnel seemed much darker to them than before. Rimbaud remembered the bundle of stained cloth just before almost stumbling over it and turned to his companion. “We should not leave this here,” he suggested, “but we cannot carry it with us.”
“I know where it can be hidden,” she answered, lifting the moist heap gingerly. “Go on.” They proceeded slowly, trying to find a safe foothold with each step on the rocky, miry ground. Often they slid downwards and were glad of the rough walls against which they steadied themselves. Finally the ground levelled slightly. They had reached the fork.
Estelyn nudged Rimbaud and motioned him to stop and hold up the lantern. Her hands probed the wall as if searching for something. Then she leaned forward; he could not see what she did. Suddenly a piece of the seemingly solid wall slid to one side, revealing a hole. Her hand explored the dark cavity and pulled out a parchment before bundling the moist cloth inside and closing the secret compartment.
Then she unceremoniously pushed him around the corner. They were on the way to – who knew what? Rimbaud looked back and was startled to see no opening where they had been. Estelyn met his puzzled gaze with the ghost of a smile.
“The passage to the outward entrance cannot be seen from this way,” she whispered. “Skilled masons crafted this wall long ago, the same that made that secret hiding place. Now for some light to read the message!”
She unfolded the brittle parchment with care and held it up to see what was written on the single page, then gasped and handed it to Rimbaud, wide-eyed, wordlessly. His glance moved over the missive rapidly, and this is what he read:
__________________
'Mercy!' cried Gandalf. 'If the giving of information is to be the cure of your inquisitiveness, I shall spend all the rest of my days in answering you. What more do you want to know?' 'The whole history of Middle-earth.. .'
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