Disclaimer: Tolkien’s world – Kortirion’s place of preferred habitat.
‘Bad eggs...’ the odour - so cloying it caught at the back of the throat, ‘reek’ was the only word suitable… He toiled forward, a grimly determined figure ahead of the exhausted one staggering behind. The well-trodden path was clouded with drifting miasmas, treacherously inviting the unwary to deviate, to stray to their doom. He must focus... be strong, but trilling thoughts laughed seductively at him. ‘No. Not mine – concentrate...’ the sweet smell of success... it was almost his ‘...nearly there...’
“Cast it into the fire, Isildur!”
But the man turned away, and Elrond smelt a bitter change in the air.