Gwindolyn Spiritor watches as a portal opens to her lounging room. She stands up and waits to see who steps through. She stands patiently, but demandingly. Olwe looks around, wildly. Zeskacha shoves him forward, unimpressed where the man had chosen to put himself. Brushes herself off, grumbling as she walks through the portal behind him.
Olwe stumbles forward and whirls around...glaring...sees the stone walls and gasps...what happened earlier was not a dream
Gwindolyn Spiritor smiles to see her drowess land and with an elf. "Vedui' dalharil. Tell me, what gift you bring me this day?" She looks over the elf as if inspecting him for worth. Her hands idly by her side.
Zeskacha finishes brushing herself off, looking up at Gwindolyn with a semi annoyed expression "A gift from lloth...an annoying.. gift from lloth." Her voice is etheral, as if it rises from the depths to flood from her lips
Olwe looks about wildly, then focuses his gaze upon the person before him. He then brushes at his clothes and murmurs about spiders.
Gwindolyn Spiritor cants her head to the side as she listens. The important words 'gift from Lloth' and 'spiders' perking her interst. "Spiders?" She walks to the elf and sees he indeed has spiders on him that do not bite at him. A sure sign he was a gift from Lloth. She lifts a hand to a spider on the elf. She listens to its chittering. A wicked smile crosses her lips. "Stop threatening my spiders King or those spiders will start to bite."
Olwe's eyes travel from one dark skinned female to the other. "Who sent you?" he demands...his voice wavers a little, his eyes showing too much white. He watches the spider crawl upon her hand. His own voice lowers. "What are you? You are not the Voice."
Zeskacha brings her arms up to fold across her chest, looking down her nose at the elf, wondering why on earth Lloth would choose suh a creature as a gift. Hopefully he had something of worth aside from rags for clothes and a penchant for attracting spiders.
She steps close to the elf. Her lips close to his ear, "I'm the messengar of the voice. I'm the voice's right hand. " She steps back as she walks about the elf, measuring his being. "Now, my spiders speak to me, but I will hear your voice. Who are you?"
Olwe slowly turns and looks at her when she speaks, sharply drawing in a breath. His fists clench and unclench at her pronouncement of her position as right hand of the Voice. He looks around, slowly, a measuring look. "This is not where I was before. There is no pit of fire, no Voice. Who are you? Why did you force me to see the dead form of my sweet cousin?"
Gwindolyn Spiritor continues to walk around him slowly. Her voice does not fill the air. She looks to her drowess and nods her acceptance of the interruption. Her fingers quickly sign to the drowess "Good work, this will be fun, Lloth has promised."
[Zeskacha could only smirk a little. She had experienced Lloth first hand and often spent greath lengths of time contemplating her relationship with the deity... it wasn't always good so hopefully 'fun' could be delivered. She'd nod to the drowess, her gaze flicking to the male elf with a scruitinizing air to it
Olwe stands stock still while she moves around him, his spine straight and his carriage proud, only the quickness of his breath betraying any nervousness.
Gwindolyn Spiritor sniffs close to his ear. Not to smell anything so much as to throw him off balance. "You are in my home, elf. With many who do my bidding without a note from my throat. I truly suggest you answer my question. Who are you?" She gnashes her teeth just an inch from his ear. A sound meant to make him flinch or at least rethink his silence.
Olwe whips his head around to stare at her. He blinks slowly and brushes at his shoulder, even though nothing was on his shoulder. "You don't know my name? The Voice didn't tell you of me?"
Zeskacha glances between the two of them. She figured Gwindolyn had him under control.. he seemed more like a madman than anything else. "I must ask to take my leave of you Iharess" again her voice swirling up, echoing as if many yet crisp as if one
Olwe whips his head around at the effect of her voice, bouncing off the walls and backs up a second. "I WILL NOT bow!" he shouts.
Gwindolyn Spiritor watches the tattle tale signs of his eyes being off and the way he brushes at the shoulder though the spiders have skittered away. She grins. "What the voice has said to me and has not is my concern, not yours. Your is that you won't be able to save your sweet cousin if you die here for being stupidly silent." She turns to her drowess and says "Siyo Dalharil, you must."
Olwe looks at the drowess in red and takes a threatening step toward her. "Tell IT, I am a Child of Illuvatar. I am not its plaything."
Zeskacha hisses towards him, "I'd suggest you start behaving in a manner more fitting if you wish to get any of your questions answered" her nostrils flare, obviously she was left with a temper as short and thin as a strand on a spider's web. She looks over to her Ihraess, composing herself and courtseying "Thank you IHaress"
Zeskacha looks back at him, balling her hands into fists as he approaches her "Hold your place Elf" she snaps, "You will speak directly to the Iharess and not use me as your vector"
With eyes narrowed to slits, fists clenched at his side, he glides his eyes over her form and murmurs something in Quenya, "You are nothing but a shadow of my mind." He takes another step boldly, then turns on his heel and looks at the other dark skinned Drow. "You are Ilharess?" He blinks, measuring the word on his tongue. "I am Olwe."
Gwindolyn Spiritor: She watches how he speaks to a voice unheard in the room. She sees her drow does not quite grasp the madness this elf is taken with. She keeps her smile hidden deep within. All they see is this blank, amused, but strong face. A face of control. She lets the spiders on her body move and weave her clothes as they continually disintigrate from her body's touch. She loves the touch of the spider's webbing on her body as she walks. She hears his name finally. "So the voice does speak directly to you. Do you hear a female voice?"
Pandora Urqhart held her position, unthreatened by him and showing some restraint from physcailly assaulting him. She'd huff quietly, narrowing her eyes before bowing again to the Iharess turning on her heel and heading into the darkness her coattails swishing around her ankles as she walks
Olwe pauses to consider the question, a puzzled look on his face. The soft sound of the fabric causes him to look over his shoulder at the departing Drowess. "She should learn manners."
She hisses to his face "Focus. I know what haunts you and how to help you. But you will answer my questions first. Does the voice speak to you as a female?"
Olwe's eyes, indeed, fastens onto her face, and he studies it intently for a moment, then slowly answers, haltingly. "It called me worm and told me to beg for my life. It was a Voice without form, out of a great pit of fire. "
She smiles "Yes the voice of chaos. Beautiful, is it not? Lloth speaks in that depth rarely. Why she chose to grace a mere elf with such a gift is beyond me." She picks one last spider from his back and lets it take her body. "Tell me about this dream elf. The one you say she has bestowed upon you." Her voice is softer, but no less demanding as she treats his nightmares and madness as a gift from her Godess.
Olwe watches her carefully, eyes following her every move. His own voice softens. "I would call it many things, but beautiful...no, I would not call such a voice that. It was ashes and fire and blood, in that voice."
Gwindolyn Spiritor considers his description and continues to smile. "Yes, there is. The depth of it is beyond any music gracing the ears of mortals. But tell me about your dream before I have to extract it from you."
Olwe blinks and pulls his head back, looking wide-eyed at her. "Extract?" he asks, cocking his head. Then he speaks slowly, musingly. "The voice asked me what I was." He looks at the Drowess before him. "It is clear I am elven, is it not? " He gestures at his body, then up to his ears, feeling them, and pulling away one hand , flakes of dried blood on its. "My ears bled," he whispered. Then he spoke louder, looking about the room as he does..."The room was smaller, you know, the pit wide, deep. It told me to beg for my life." He flashes a fierce look of pride, "But I am a Child of Illuvatar, and that voice has no power over me."
Gwindolyn Spiritor watches carefully his show and notes well his dried blood on the ears. She files that away should she need it. She then listens as he says 'the voice has no power over me.' She laughs loud and long at that. "Tell me how it has no power. Show me how you have your full wits about you. Show me that you are in your home, in your throne room and not here with me, half mad and bleeding from your ears. Please just try to. I would very much love the laugh." She takes a seat on the bench in such a way that does not invite him to join her. Letting her relax in comfort as he stands before her, as if he were her entertainment for the night.
Olwe wanders around the rooom a little, giving no sign he he noticed she had taken a seat. "The waterfall is lovely." He gestures vaguely at it. He inspects the spider web and pauses. "Ungoliath who bit the Blessed Trees and cause them to die...did one of her children weave that? Do they still live?" He turns and looks at her, walking back. "How can you, so beautiful, so graceful, serve such a Voice? Why would you honor such a one?" He looks down and blushes. "Your skin, velvet like the night sky. Surely you know the blessings of Illuvatar as do I."
She listens and is a bit surprised. She realizes this elf has no clue who he speaks to. Not just the who as in her personally, but the who as in her race as a whole. He doesn't know drow. She begins to well with plans and ideas. The chaos in it just to beautiful to resist. She isn't sure of the names he uses as God heads, but she wings it. "Oh yes, my cousin. I do now the gifts of the gods well. And Yes, somethings might have escaped your attention for a time, but let me fix you a drink and we will discuss how things have grown over the years." Her voice is soft and almost kind. There is a seductive flare to her tone and movements as she walks to the side of the room to gather a drink for herself and a bit of something that will 'help' him. It will keep him addicted to her 'cures' while letting him think he is getting better.
Olwe smiles warmly, even offers a hand to her to help her from her seat. He watches her, speaking as much to her and to himself. "Gods.,,,how strange...how different the world has become." He watches her back as she gathers drinks and relaxes a little, his face a little softer. 'You have heard this Voice too? Did it threaten you, cousin? You are kin, are you not? For I know well the stories of the dark elves...and I have wondered how their children would have fared over the passing of the many turns of seasons."
Gwindolyn Spiritor is grateful her back was turned as he calls her 'cousin' and 'dark elf'. The terms would normally get an elf killed. But she is going a different path with him. "I'm sure you can call me cousin." She said instead of admitting any possible common hertiage. Her delusions being that the drow had their own start in life and were not related to elves. She turns back to him with the drinks. Her smile was soft and welcoming. She hands him a drink. "That one will clear your head a little. Come, sit with me. Tell me what this voice has tortured you with." Her tone of words changing to suit the role she has decided to play.
Olwe gingerly takes the drink with a small bow of his head in thanks, but looks down at the liquid and back up to her. "There was a dark skinned elf....they called her..." he thinks..."Drow, yes drowess, though she looked like one of the healers who were trying to heal me. I was poisoned, they say. She brought a potion, and I drank it. They called me foolish, but it seemed to work...at first...then the buzzing started to fill my head, and the voice came." He looks back up to her and pauses. "I have never seen wine so rick and dark in color. From whence came it, I pray?" His eyes narrowed, and he searched her face. "Would you be kin to she who brought that potion? She was haughty as the other...female...who was here, but she was also frightened. I could tell." He took her offer and settled down on the seat beside her. "Thank you for your kindness. But how did that dark skinned maid find me, surrounded as I were by shades of ones who cannot be alive?"
She swirls her wine in her cup as she takes a drink and then sits down on the bench. This time she sits to one side to grant him space to sit with her. She waves a dismissive hand at the talk of her other drowess. "I had heard one of my cousins was in need of help, how could I refuse? You have heard the voice and could not refuse. So I could not either." She takes a drink of her wine. "The deep richness comes from ingredients not found on the surface." She does not mention it contains part of the chaos flower. The poison and the cure both contain part of the flower. She also does not tell that the reason the voice told her to go to the elf was to take advantage of such chaos as is present to be furthered. She would play her part and further the chaos as she could. Tonight she was confirming his false assumptions and gaining his favor and his debt. "You have spoken of visions, nightmares. Do tell me of them?" Her voice is almost entreating, possibly even a bit pouty.
Olwe watches her take a sip and sips, too, from his cup, rising his eyes to meet hers. "So, you do not truly serve this Voice, cousin?"
Gwindolyn Spiritor: She takes a deep sip of her drow wine. The smell of spider venom soothing her nerves as she plays nice with this pawn next to her. She does hate letting him think them related, but she would manipulate him to her desires and this was the most likely path for success. "Such a voice demands and who am I to refuse? You were unable to refuse it." She leaves it at that, not admitting she worships the voice and devotes all she is to it. She would gain his trust instead. So much easier to slip in a poisoned dagger when you are trusted.
Olwe's pleasant demeanor changed, and a coldness spread over his features. His grip on the cup tightened, and his lips pursed. He spat his words at her, nearly rising. "I...did...not bow to that ....that perversion. Even when it threatened me with death, with death of all I love. I will live and if I need, die, serving the will of the Valar." He regards her coolly and draws back. "Even when it told me I was abandoned by the one I love most, even then I did not bend, though it was crushing the very air from my body." He swallows and a haunted looks comes over his face. " I will live and die free, a Teleir, an Eldar, one of the Children of Illuvatar."
She sees his anger and she does not pursue him though now she has his dreams and knows the prophecy Lloth has sent him to give her. She has her victory. She turns to him . "Shhhh... You are obviously not abandoned. Tell me, how is your head? You should be thinking more clearly now." She thinks to offer him food, but does not think elven ear chips would help her at the moment, so she does not point them out. "You are free. You did well in your resistance. Not many are so strong." She coo'd softly to him. "Illuvatar would be proud of you." She still has no idea who Illuvatar is, but knows it is his perceived God.
Olwe stumbles forward and whirls around...glaring...sees the stone walls and gasps...what happened earlier was not a dream
Gwindolyn Spiritor smiles to see her drowess land and with an elf. "Vedui' dalharil. Tell me, what gift you bring me this day?" She looks over the elf as if inspecting him for worth. Her hands idly by her side.
Zeskacha finishes brushing herself off, looking up at Gwindolyn with a semi annoyed expression "A gift from lloth...an annoying.. gift from lloth." Her voice is etheral, as if it rises from the depths to flood from her lips
Olwe looks about wildly, then focuses his gaze upon the person before him. He then brushes at his clothes and murmurs about spiders.
Gwindolyn Spiritor cants her head to the side as she listens. The important words 'gift from Lloth' and 'spiders' perking her interst. "Spiders?" She walks to the elf and sees he indeed has spiders on him that do not bite at him. A sure sign he was a gift from Lloth. She lifts a hand to a spider on the elf. She listens to its chittering. A wicked smile crosses her lips. "Stop threatening my spiders King or those spiders will start to bite."
Olwe's eyes travel from one dark skinned female to the other. "Who sent you?" he demands...his voice wavers a little, his eyes showing too much white. He watches the spider crawl upon her hand. His own voice lowers. "What are you? You are not the Voice."
Zeskacha brings her arms up to fold across her chest, looking down her nose at the elf, wondering why on earth Lloth would choose suh a creature as a gift. Hopefully he had something of worth aside from rags for clothes and a penchant for attracting spiders.
She steps close to the elf. Her lips close to his ear, "I'm the messengar of the voice. I'm the voice's right hand. " She steps back as she walks about the elf, measuring his being. "Now, my spiders speak to me, but I will hear your voice. Who are you?"
Olwe slowly turns and looks at her when she speaks, sharply drawing in a breath. His fists clench and unclench at her pronouncement of her position as right hand of the Voice. He looks around, slowly, a measuring look. "This is not where I was before. There is no pit of fire, no Voice. Who are you? Why did you force me to see the dead form of my sweet cousin?"
Gwindolyn Spiritor continues to walk around him slowly. Her voice does not fill the air. She looks to her drowess and nods her acceptance of the interruption. Her fingers quickly sign to the drowess "Good work, this will be fun, Lloth has promised."
[Zeskacha could only smirk a little. She had experienced Lloth first hand and often spent greath lengths of time contemplating her relationship with the deity... it wasn't always good so hopefully 'fun' could be delivered. She'd nod to the drowess, her gaze flicking to the male elf with a scruitinizing air to it
Olwe stands stock still while she moves around him, his spine straight and his carriage proud, only the quickness of his breath betraying any nervousness.
Gwindolyn Spiritor sniffs close to his ear. Not to smell anything so much as to throw him off balance. "You are in my home, elf. With many who do my bidding without a note from my throat. I truly suggest you answer my question. Who are you?" She gnashes her teeth just an inch from his ear. A sound meant to make him flinch or at least rethink his silence.
Olwe whips his head around to stare at her. He blinks slowly and brushes at his shoulder, even though nothing was on his shoulder. "You don't know my name? The Voice didn't tell you of me?"
Zeskacha glances between the two of them. She figured Gwindolyn had him under control.. he seemed more like a madman than anything else. "I must ask to take my leave of you Iharess" again her voice swirling up, echoing as if many yet crisp as if one
Olwe whips his head around at the effect of her voice, bouncing off the walls and backs up a second. "I WILL NOT bow!" he shouts.
Gwindolyn Spiritor watches the tattle tale signs of his eyes being off and the way he brushes at the shoulder though the spiders have skittered away. She grins. "What the voice has said to me and has not is my concern, not yours. Your is that you won't be able to save your sweet cousin if you die here for being stupidly silent." She turns to her drowess and says "Siyo Dalharil, you must."
Olwe looks at the drowess in red and takes a threatening step toward her. "Tell IT, I am a Child of Illuvatar. I am not its plaything."
Zeskacha hisses towards him, "I'd suggest you start behaving in a manner more fitting if you wish to get any of your questions answered" her nostrils flare, obviously she was left with a temper as short and thin as a strand on a spider's web. She looks over to her Ihraess, composing herself and courtseying "Thank you IHaress"
Zeskacha looks back at him, balling her hands into fists as he approaches her "Hold your place Elf" she snaps, "You will speak directly to the Iharess and not use me as your vector"
With eyes narrowed to slits, fists clenched at his side, he glides his eyes over her form and murmurs something in Quenya, "You are nothing but a shadow of my mind." He takes another step boldly, then turns on his heel and looks at the other dark skinned Drow. "You are Ilharess?" He blinks, measuring the word on his tongue. "I am Olwe."
Gwindolyn Spiritor: She watches how he speaks to a voice unheard in the room. She sees her drow does not quite grasp the madness this elf is taken with. She keeps her smile hidden deep within. All they see is this blank, amused, but strong face. A face of control. She lets the spiders on her body move and weave her clothes as they continually disintigrate from her body's touch. She loves the touch of the spider's webbing on her body as she walks. She hears his name finally. "So the voice does speak directly to you. Do you hear a female voice?"
Pandora Urqhart held her position, unthreatened by him and showing some restraint from physcailly assaulting him. She'd huff quietly, narrowing her eyes before bowing again to the Iharess turning on her heel and heading into the darkness her coattails swishing around her ankles as she walks
Olwe pauses to consider the question, a puzzled look on his face. The soft sound of the fabric causes him to look over his shoulder at the departing Drowess. "She should learn manners."
She hisses to his face "Focus. I know what haunts you and how to help you. But you will answer my questions first. Does the voice speak to you as a female?"
Olwe's eyes, indeed, fastens onto her face, and he studies it intently for a moment, then slowly answers, haltingly. "It called me worm and told me to beg for my life. It was a Voice without form, out of a great pit of fire. "
She smiles "Yes the voice of chaos. Beautiful, is it not? Lloth speaks in that depth rarely. Why she chose to grace a mere elf with such a gift is beyond me." She picks one last spider from his back and lets it take her body. "Tell me about this dream elf. The one you say she has bestowed upon you." Her voice is softer, but no less demanding as she treats his nightmares and madness as a gift from her Godess.
Olwe watches her carefully, eyes following her every move. His own voice softens. "I would call it many things, but beautiful...no, I would not call such a voice that. It was ashes and fire and blood, in that voice."
Gwindolyn Spiritor considers his description and continues to smile. "Yes, there is. The depth of it is beyond any music gracing the ears of mortals. But tell me about your dream before I have to extract it from you."
Olwe blinks and pulls his head back, looking wide-eyed at her. "Extract?" he asks, cocking his head. Then he speaks slowly, musingly. "The voice asked me what I was." He looks at the Drowess before him. "It is clear I am elven, is it not? " He gestures at his body, then up to his ears, feeling them, and pulling away one hand , flakes of dried blood on its. "My ears bled," he whispered. Then he spoke louder, looking about the room as he does..."The room was smaller, you know, the pit wide, deep. It told me to beg for my life." He flashes a fierce look of pride, "But I am a Child of Illuvatar, and that voice has no power over me."
Gwindolyn Spiritor watches carefully his show and notes well his dried blood on the ears. She files that away should she need it. She then listens as he says 'the voice has no power over me.' She laughs loud and long at that. "Tell me how it has no power. Show me how you have your full wits about you. Show me that you are in your home, in your throne room and not here with me, half mad and bleeding from your ears. Please just try to. I would very much love the laugh." She takes a seat on the bench in such a way that does not invite him to join her. Letting her relax in comfort as he stands before her, as if he were her entertainment for the night.
Olwe wanders around the rooom a little, giving no sign he he noticed she had taken a seat. "The waterfall is lovely." He gestures vaguely at it. He inspects the spider web and pauses. "Ungoliath who bit the Blessed Trees and cause them to die...did one of her children weave that? Do they still live?" He turns and looks at her, walking back. "How can you, so beautiful, so graceful, serve such a Voice? Why would you honor such a one?" He looks down and blushes. "Your skin, velvet like the night sky. Surely you know the blessings of Illuvatar as do I."
She listens and is a bit surprised. She realizes this elf has no clue who he speaks to. Not just the who as in her personally, but the who as in her race as a whole. He doesn't know drow. She begins to well with plans and ideas. The chaos in it just to beautiful to resist. She isn't sure of the names he uses as God heads, but she wings it. "Oh yes, my cousin. I do now the gifts of the gods well. And Yes, somethings might have escaped your attention for a time, but let me fix you a drink and we will discuss how things have grown over the years." Her voice is soft and almost kind. There is a seductive flare to her tone and movements as she walks to the side of the room to gather a drink for herself and a bit of something that will 'help' him. It will keep him addicted to her 'cures' while letting him think he is getting better.
Olwe smiles warmly, even offers a hand to her to help her from her seat. He watches her, speaking as much to her and to himself. "Gods.,,,how strange...how different the world has become." He watches her back as she gathers drinks and relaxes a little, his face a little softer. 'You have heard this Voice too? Did it threaten you, cousin? You are kin, are you not? For I know well the stories of the dark elves...and I have wondered how their children would have fared over the passing of the many turns of seasons."
Gwindolyn Spiritor is grateful her back was turned as he calls her 'cousin' and 'dark elf'. The terms would normally get an elf killed. But she is going a different path with him. "I'm sure you can call me cousin." She said instead of admitting any possible common hertiage. Her delusions being that the drow had their own start in life and were not related to elves. She turns back to him with the drinks. Her smile was soft and welcoming. She hands him a drink. "That one will clear your head a little. Come, sit with me. Tell me what this voice has tortured you with." Her tone of words changing to suit the role she has decided to play.
Olwe gingerly takes the drink with a small bow of his head in thanks, but looks down at the liquid and back up to her. "There was a dark skinned elf....they called her..." he thinks..."Drow, yes drowess, though she looked like one of the healers who were trying to heal me. I was poisoned, they say. She brought a potion, and I drank it. They called me foolish, but it seemed to work...at first...then the buzzing started to fill my head, and the voice came." He looks back up to her and pauses. "I have never seen wine so rick and dark in color. From whence came it, I pray?" His eyes narrowed, and he searched her face. "Would you be kin to she who brought that potion? She was haughty as the other...female...who was here, but she was also frightened. I could tell." He took her offer and settled down on the seat beside her. "Thank you for your kindness. But how did that dark skinned maid find me, surrounded as I were by shades of ones who cannot be alive?"
She swirls her wine in her cup as she takes a drink and then sits down on the bench. This time she sits to one side to grant him space to sit with her. She waves a dismissive hand at the talk of her other drowess. "I had heard one of my cousins was in need of help, how could I refuse? You have heard the voice and could not refuse. So I could not either." She takes a drink of her wine. "The deep richness comes from ingredients not found on the surface." She does not mention it contains part of the chaos flower. The poison and the cure both contain part of the flower. She also does not tell that the reason the voice told her to go to the elf was to take advantage of such chaos as is present to be furthered. She would play her part and further the chaos as she could. Tonight she was confirming his false assumptions and gaining his favor and his debt. "You have spoken of visions, nightmares. Do tell me of them?" Her voice is almost entreating, possibly even a bit pouty.
Olwe watches her take a sip and sips, too, from his cup, rising his eyes to meet hers. "So, you do not truly serve this Voice, cousin?"
Gwindolyn Spiritor: She takes a deep sip of her drow wine. The smell of spider venom soothing her nerves as she plays nice with this pawn next to her. She does hate letting him think them related, but she would manipulate him to her desires and this was the most likely path for success. "Such a voice demands and who am I to refuse? You were unable to refuse it." She leaves it at that, not admitting she worships the voice and devotes all she is to it. She would gain his trust instead. So much easier to slip in a poisoned dagger when you are trusted.
Olwe's pleasant demeanor changed, and a coldness spread over his features. His grip on the cup tightened, and his lips pursed. He spat his words at her, nearly rising. "I...did...not bow to that ....that perversion. Even when it threatened me with death, with death of all I love. I will live and if I need, die, serving the will of the Valar." He regards her coolly and draws back. "Even when it told me I was abandoned by the one I love most, even then I did not bend, though it was crushing the very air from my body." He swallows and a haunted looks comes over his face. " I will live and die free, a Teleir, an Eldar, one of the Children of Illuvatar."
She sees his anger and she does not pursue him though now she has his dreams and knows the prophecy Lloth has sent him to give her. She has her victory. She turns to him . "Shhhh... You are obviously not abandoned. Tell me, how is your head? You should be thinking more clearly now." She thinks to offer him food, but does not think elven ear chips would help her at the moment, so she does not point them out. "You are free. You did well in your resistance. Not many are so strong." She coo'd softly to him. "Illuvatar would be proud of you." She still has no idea who Illuvatar is, but knows it is his perceived God.