Then said Idril: ‘Woe is me whose father awaiteth doom even upon his topmost pinnacle; but seven times woe whose lord hath gone down before Melko and will stride home no more’ – for she was distraught with the agony of that night. Then said Tuor: ‘Lo! Idril, it is I, and I live; yet now will I get thy father hence, be it from the Hells of Melko!’ With that he would make down the hill alone, maddened by the grief of his wife; but she coming to her wits in a storm of weeping clasped his knees saying: ‘My lord! My lord!’ and delayed him. Yet even as they spoke a great noise and a yelling rose
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