"No good will come of this, I tell you," grumbled Fenrohir. He kicked at a stone near his feet and sent it sailing through the air and into the large, dark pool before him. With a muffled 'plop' it disappeared into the murky depths, showing little evidence of its passing on the surface of the pool.
"Stop that!" cried Enduriel, catching his arm and pulling him back sharply from the water's edge. "Do you forget the cautionary tales? Monsters lurk in the depths of this pool, and it is death to disturb them!"
Fenrohir shook her off, cursing halfheartedly in response. "Pay you still so much heed to those bedtime fairy tales? It is nothing but a murky old lake; it doesn't seem as even fish could survive long in it, let alone something of a more perilous nature."
Enduriel cast him a long, dark look before returning to her task. "If you don't believe those old tales, then why have you agreed to come along? Gandalf and his company passed this way long ago, and the songs still sing of the misfortune they met here even before passing through the secret gate into Moria."
"Lost a pony, is all," Fenrohir grumbled. "And what's more, old Bill made his way back to Rivendell unharmed, or so the stories say. Yet if those tales are true, then why do the doors lie unhindered by rock, as was said to have been thrust down across them? See there, even the holly trees which grew beside the door remain as they were planted many years ago."
Enduriel shook her head. "I do not know. It is all very odd to me; perhaps they have been replanted, and some magic has put the doors aright. All the same, it is of little concern to us. We must concentrate now on opening the doors, and for that, I need peace and quiet!"
Fenrohir, chastised into momentary silence, walked off apace to gaze out across the lake at the fading light of the setting sun. A cool breeze sent tiny ripples across the surface of the lake and sighed through the branches of the holly trees. He glanced back at Enduriel where she stood with head bent and hands against the stone wall, willing the words of entry to come to her.
"If she takes much longer to recall the old password, our adventure will be like to that of Gandalf's indeed: slow and tedious," Fenrohir grumbled softly to himself, so as not to incur his companion's wrath. Yet he himself quickly fell silent as he watched her. They had long been friends, but Fenrohir had always wished their relationship would encompass more than friendship.
Enduriel was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Long blond tresses hung to her waist; even now, tramping through wild country, it hung freely down her back, a few strands falling about her face, smooth and shining as ever. Her face was pale and smooth, her blue eyes bright, her full red lips alluring, even when the words that issued from them were harsh.
Of her body Fenrohir seldom allowed himself to think, for each time he grew more and more desirous to possess it. She was delicately built, thin and yet quite sturdy, certainly owed to the many days she had spent wandering about the countryside, following this trail or that, often with Fenrohir in tow. As she stood, bent forward slightly, leaning against the stone, he caught a glimpse of her body in the fading light. Her bosom looked terribly out of proportion upon her small frame, and below her arched back, a pair of firm, rounded buttocks beckoned to him, begging for his touch.
Fenrohir shook his head wilfully. Enduriel was a good friend of many years, no matter how pretty, and he must not think of her in the way that so many other men did. Now if only she could prove her worth and open that blasted door!
So enamored with his lovely companion was Fenrohir that he did not notice the beast until it had already caught him. It was indeed so stealthy that he likely would not have sensed its approach unless he had been looking directly at the water when it arose from the depths. As it was, Fenrohir found himself already bound and gagged by slimy tentacles before he could even think to cry out.
