As you climb the hill which dominates the ruined elven village you hear a voice within the fire which roars through the flaming crowns of the trees. “End the song of the deep, the song of agony and eternal vigil. Silence the forty tongues who hold me here, who doom themselves with my relentless flame. You must follow the river down to the singing lake. I lie trapped beneath its surface. Set me free, or suffer my fiery wrath!,” the voice threatens.
You finally reach the crest of the hill and you see what had to be once a beautiful fountain in the shape of a grand willow tree with drooping branches, and which once rained soothing water upon a wide, shimmering pool surrounded by a ring of seventeen old oak trees. A walkway of stepping stones led to a small “island” in front of the tree. Now the water has boiled away, and only the trees remain, occasionally raining fiery debris. The stone willow tree is covered with ash.