From the depth of the mere a solemn figure rose to stare at him with pitiless eyes.
“How can you dare to wander here, Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the man, who betrayed us all?” the pale Elf spoke, and his fair hair, which had once been braided, now floated with the soft rippling of the water. He spoke the words soundlessly, but the hatred poured out of each and every one of them. “It was your ancestor, who made all our sacrifices but a futile slaughter of Men and Elves with no reason behind it! How can you dare to come here and face us, the Dead, who have suffered only to witness the utter weakness of Men? It was your lineage, which could have brought the Evil to its end, but greed made Isildur falter. And you… would you go to the end, in days to come, were the power laid in your hands? No, you would not!” The once blue eyes of the Elf sparked cold fire. “There is no courage and honour in your veins. You would be weak and greedy, hungry for the riches this kind of power could deliver upon you!” Hands with remnants of white flesh stretched out to grab him, and there was no place to hide. The captive's lungs were too tight to breathe. And there was water all around him! He could not move. He could not get up and run away! He was pulled further down, where the light grew dim. “So you shall not live to see this future, for I will not let you surface again and become the bane of your people and mine!” With that the grip around his arms tightened.
There was no escape.