Jarel stroked his chin with his fingers, observing Emyn Muil in the fading light. The sky was dark and clear and the light of many stars shone down on his pale elven face. He let out a small sigh, his breath floating up to the stars in plumes of fog. He turned around and walked back into his private chambers, entering the corridor. He took the stairs, walking for almost ten minutes, and stood on the ground floor. He strode purposefully down the hallway, turning left.

He stopped at the door, the room behind him holding his prisoners. He extracted a golden key from his pocket and unlocked the door, slipping in. The light was dim for the youngest inhabitants of the prison were sleeping peacefully, their heads on their mother's lap. The warrior from Harad was sitting, leaning against the wall, her dark hair shielding her face from him. The proud princess of Mirkwood was looking out the small window, her back turned. The Lady Naomi looked ready to pitch over and collapse and Jarel sighed.

"How pitiful." He sneered.