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She stands on the smooth sands, resplendent in the dawn light, dressed all in pale pink. Her hair cascades down her back, like a river of starlight.
Nimrodel is there, crowned with blood red roses. The water shimmers, the only thing keeping him from his fair Nimrodel.
‘Amroth,’ she cries, tears sliding down her cheeks.
‘Amroth, my lord, do not leave me.’ She stands, arms spread like a great eagle’s dark wings.
He shrugs off his silken robes, leaving them a white puddle on the deck.
He dives.
The water rushes up and closes about him. But he must get to her, he must.
He gasps in great gulps of water.
Air.
He needs air. He kicks up, he must– what must he do? Spiderwebs clog his mind. Nimrodel waits for him on the far shore.
He shall reach her. He pushes his arms through the water. He needs to reach her.
He gasps in more gulps of icy water.
Everything fades.