[Tauriel]

Кто там у нас рекламой среди англоговорящих занимается? Мю? Тогда вот тебе интригующий кусочек.

She had a dream. Long, painful and frightening, like a November night.
She dreamt of eyes. Light-grey eyes with a tint of blue, clear and intent – they gazed into her, as if touching her soul with steel fingers. And her soul dashed in fear against the vaults of mind, threatening to shatter the beams and to break loose into the cold spaces of lethal insanity.
She tried to free herself – but couldn’t. She listened to her body and the body, tightened with ropes, replied with pain. It wasn’t her body. She wasn’t herself. She could feel the presence of others near, but it was very vague because the Eyes held her constantly. Besides them nothing could exist in her small world.
Un-She was sinking into horror. Under her feet the ice grave bared its fangs, the broken snow crust calved, the walls of ice flied by and her stark fingers, desperately trying to find support, slid down. Once this has really happened to Un-She. Once Un-She has been stuck between ice and stone, like a wedge in a slot. Un-She was going… a groan, almost a wail, burst out with a frosty cloud of breath… was going to stay in this crack FOREVER!
The eyes promised release. Firm and steady support. Only one little thing was required – to agree. To open, to allow to be rescued from despair. Such a little thing…
And Un-She turned to Her, reached out to Her with all her essence. This appeal was clear, as if someone called her name aloud:
“Tinuviel!”
She knew that she must not accept help from This. She must not. By no means.
And she knew that the Eyes don’t lie: they can crush, destroy, break down; they can indeed.
But death was the only way out…
For Beren.
Clearly, so clearly, as if some smoke screen has lifted, she saw that Un-She is Beren.
He called for her. And what could she answer? “Hold on”?
Hold on, she said. Do not let him inside you, for death which he is treatening you with, is the Gift of the One. And what he is offering is worse than death.
It hurt her to say this; she cried.
This was her own pain, but his came after. From afar but very distinct, and she screamed, though he kept silent.
And Un-She said with his voice:
“So why are you sitting, you bastard? Exhausted of torturing me?”
Luthien screamed and woke up.