At an order from Celedhan, several elves dove into the black waters, unsheathed daggers clutched in their teeth. There was a long frustrating silence as the men strained to see into the darkness, looking for some sign of the enemy. But eventually the elves returned, and there were no further reports of the enemy. When the trouble had begun, Anest had rejoined them, and soon found that Lily, like Dorain, could see far more in the darkness than he. When the danger seemed to be past, Anest turned his full attention to his wife, for like the elves, she could see much more than just the mere physical presence of the enemy, and was likewise affected by what she saw.
"They are maimed," she told him in a flat voice as empty and hollow as the night. "It's as though they were burned alive . . . right through, until every part of them . . . even their souls . . . were horribly melted. But they're not allowed to die . . . to find peace. And I can see their purpose now. It's not theirs. It's one they've been given . . . it's all they have."
"Lily, for pity's sake, please stop! You don't have to do this . . ."
Her gaze, for a moment, seemed empty and grey as ash in the dim light, and he was suddenly afraid for her, for here was a thing that he would never be able to understand, something he could never share with her.