those convulsions assumed a definite and highly unpleasant rhythm… Do none of you feel anything?” The clofoel of Memory broke the ensuing silence suddenly: “I feel it!” It was hard to tell what shocked the Council more – the report of the clofoel of Stars or this unheard-of violation of protocol. Formally all clofoels were equals, but never before did any of the minor ones – all those palace librarians, nurses, and masters of ceremonies – dare interrupt the discussions of the Sovereigns and the Big Four. “It is exactly as you describe, o esteemed clofoel of Stars! But I didn’t know it was caused by the Mirror…”
How would you ever know that, you timid mouse, thought Eornis in annoyance. Do you know anything but your dusty Beleriand scrolls and stupid sagas? But I – how did I fail to connect all those vibrations with the Mirror? So that’s where my chills come from… The question is – do I acknowledge this fact and thereby assist that Star bitch?.. Yes, and I should go even further, in fact.
“I believe that the esteemed clofoel of Memory has shown tremendous courage by openly stating what we all feel but are afraid to mention aloud. The feeling we are having is a strong irrational fear, is it not?”
“Maybe some girls feel strong unreasoned fear, but I personally fear no damn thing, clofoel
of the World! So don’t you go around saying…”
“Thank you, esteemed clofoel of Might; we have taken your opinion into account. As I understand it, the other members of the Council share the opinion voiced by the esteemed clofoel of the World.” The clofoel of Stars bowed slightly to Eornis. “However, our fear is not irrational. The thing is that the Mirror… how should I explain this… it is somewhat alive. The pulsating rhythm it is now creating is well-known in magic: it is the rhythm of labor pains, but in reverse. It is a horrible thing. The Mirror is anticipating its demise and our World’s with it… It is anticipating, and trying to reach out to us, do you see? And the stars over Lorien seem to have gone mad…”
The clofoel of Tranquility leaned forward: “Could this be related to the magical object your dancers can’t find?”
“Yes, it could,” the clofoel of Stars nodded glumly; she was obviously indisposed to develop this idea further and even refrained from adding something appropriate about the Guards having done no better.
“Wait, what does this mean – demise of our World?” That was Lord Cereborn; imagine the man actually waking up!
“Literally, o radiant Lord – one moment it exists, the other it doesn’t, and we along with it.”
“Then do something! Clofoel of Stars! You, too, clofoel of Tranquility! I… I order you as your Lord!”
What would we ever do without your orders, o precious liege – that was what showed clearly on the faces of the Big Four. The clofoel of Stars traded looks with the clofoels of the World and Tranquility, lingering a bit on the clofoel of Might, and finally uttered: “First, o radiant Lord, I must take a look at the Mirror immediately, without delay.”
“Yes, of course! Go right away!”
So this is my end, thought the clofoel of the World detachedly, staring at the play of the shades of green in the emerald of her ring. I can make no objection to her suggestion – she played her cards well and the entire Council, including that doddering fool, is on her side…
However, at that moment a figure clad in shining armor, its size and delicacy of features resembling those of the stone idols guarding lower Anduin, loomed over the table. While Eornis wondered idly whether the clofoel of Might ever took off his helmet and mithril mail (to make love, say), the man informed them of his opinion of cowards and civvies – which are really one and the same to him! – in plain soldier’s language. He, for one, feels no such ominous rhythms, and how would the clofoel of Stars and her dancers know this childbirth rhythm, anyway? Aren’t they supposed to be virgins? In any case, he has a direct order of the Lady not to let the clofoel of Stars to the Mirror, and any attempt to violate that order will be treated as rebellion, with all that follows… Yeah, and what did you think, o radiant Lord?!
“Yes, yes,” mumbled the Lord of Lorien (obviously the inescapable wrath of the Lady scared him a lot more than any hypothetical end of the world), “let’s wait for her return from the Dol Guldur expedition…”
“Come to your senses, radiant Lord!” Amazed, Eornis stared at the clofoel of Memory – the poor woman must’ve lost all grip on reality to utter such unthinkable words. “Our world is already sliding into an abyss, the only one who has any chance of saving it is the clofoel of Stars, and this helmeted idiot is standing on an order received ages ago! All right, can’t blame a man with a bronze lump for brains, but you all – Almighty Eru, can’t you rise above your petty intrigues even now, on the eve of destruction?!”
Suddenly Eornis realized that the timid book mouse has simply voiced what the entire dozen of lesser clofoels were thinking. Not just them, either, as became clear the next second when the enraged clofoel of Might tossed his chair aside – for the clofoel of Tranquility was already coming around the table towards him, stepping softly as a tiger, hand on the hilt of his sword, and a smile fit to freeze the Eternal Fire on his lips.
“You’ve just mentioned rebellion, esteemed clofoel of Might… that’s an interesting thought, isn’t it, o radiant Lord?”
“Hey, you… both of you…” the Lord mumbled and shrank in his chair: the lesser clofoels already backed to the walls, and…
