Híthenér’s ears pricked up at the sound of a man running down steps. Zainabên was far too eager to escape; were it not for the revelry above half the castle would have heard him. Warily, Híthenér crouched as he moved towards the bars though he relaxed once he saw his accomplice come dashing around the corner and hastily trotting down the steps. “The barrel’s at the top,” muttered Zainabên as he fumbled with the keys, trying to find the lock. “My family will have left through the north-western breach by now.” He was still having difficulty opening the door.
“Let me help you with that,” said the Elf and Zainabên hurriedly handed over the keys.
Before Híthenér could fit one into the lock however, an expression of horror seized the Northman’s face. He coughed up blood, then sank to the floor revealing an iron shaft protruding from his back. Híthenér looked up to see Arnubên upon the threshold, leaning against the wall with a crossbow in his hands. “Foolish,” he murmured. “I like my men to be foolish,” he said, more loudly now, “Though I also prefer them to be loyal.” Híthenér saw that he had fitted a second bolt to the arbalest and so in despair, he dropped the keys. “How did you know what we were planning?” he demanded of his jailer.
“Less than an hour ago a woman and three children were caught attempting to leave the fortress,” he walked leisurely towards the bars of the cell, “And before they died they told us that Zainabên was preparing to free one of our most esteemed captives.” He spoke the last few words almost mockingly, clearly relishing the prisoner’s horror at his brutality. “It’s strange don’t you think, how women will betray their husbands in the slim hope of saving their children. What fickle creatures they are!” now Arnubên brought his face right up next to Híthenér’s. “I’m sorry, I must be boring you. After all, you didn’t care about them, they were just a means to an end weren’t they?” Híthenér scowled but contained his anger for Arnubên could have slain him in a split-second. The Angmarim suddenly yelled, “Guards!” never taking his eyes off the Elf. Removing him from his cell, the Northmen marched him down stairways and along corridors. Feeling the chill, Híthenér realised that they must have been at least 50 feet below the ground. They stopped in a wide room, lit only by the torches carried by the six guards already down there. He looked before him to see a huge black pit with no visible bottom. Laughing, Arnubên told him, “Welcome to your new home Elf! I admit the scenery leaves a little to be desired, but at least you’ll have no trouble getting to sleep!” Híthenér looked down into the pit and felt a fear he had not known in centuries. “Please,” he begged.
“Ha!” Arnubên exclaimed, “See how quickly the pride of the Noldor is laid low! Now, throw him down!” With that the first two guards dragged Híthenér towards the edge, despite his feeble attempts at resistance, and pushed him down into the darkness.
