Next morning I returned to the Hall of Fire and met with a very hearty welcome. Sogadan had reserved some cake from the previous night's table, and he observed it would be more plentiful had I visited him sooner, but I did my duty to what was left.
Then a Man came into the Hall, a stranger, and stared boldly at me. He was very large, and cleanly dressed, bearing armour which was well-made, although out of place in the Hall. He might have been handsome, for his sort, if he did not have so many scars on his face. From his bearing he seemed as one who had been away for many years, but how old he was, I know not. I must, in justice to him, say that he seemed very brave, without his sword.
Out of laws of courtesy, I coming up to him introduced myself and offered him cake. He spoke not, he moved not, he looked not around, but coolly stared at me, before finally taking the cake. Then he finally spoke, and said he did not think anyone would be in the Hall so late. I said I thought it very early. We ate our cake in silence, then he blurted out his name, “Thendryt Morson,” threw out his chest, and tapped at a medal on it. For a few seconds I stared at it, and to tell the truth, I did have a vague idea that I had seen the symbol before. I thought of a hundred thousand things it could mean, but then I decided it did not matter; whatever the Man meant by showing it to me, I would let him explain himself, and not spoil his point with words.
“What is it!” I said, shaking my head slightly.
“I would think an Elf of Vanimar would recognize the Warband emblem. No matter.”
Thus the conversation limped out of the gate. Strange to say that this Man knew nothing, literally nothing, of my title. It might be that every thing connected with my office he is ignorant of. Thendryt asked me what it was I do as Lord Ambassador. I told him only a few of my many tasks: letter-writing, trade meetings, and other errands of the office. He said it must be very boring. Not at all, I replied, because often my work leads me to the Hall, and talking to strange folk.
Not forgetting my manners (though good manners did not seem to matter much to this Man) I offered wine, but he refused, lamenting a lack of decent ale in the Valley, and how he has had his fill of Elven wine.
I decided to leave the limping conversation be rather than try to make it run, and endeavoured to seek amusements to turn my thoughts from the cares of the day, but all was in vain, because this Man had a curious way of lowering his voice, and leaning close, as if he were sharing the most important and dire news. Each time he opened his mouth, I was expecting to hear the worst, but he would say very little, except to scornfully hint at troubles, mostly between our two peoples.
I thought to change the subject to something more pleasing to us both, and said I had met a companion of his, Lilleduil. Perhaps he was simply angry that I did not recognize the mark of his Company, and I embarrassed him, but, in any case, Thendryt seemed bent on disturbing the peace of the Hall, and again deepened his voice. He informed me that my concern about giants in the Mountains wandering close to the Valley was wrongheaded, and said I should be more worried of trolls overtaking the Trollshaws, and the Enemy pushing down from the Black Land. He even implied that Vanimar did not do our part protecting the Valley. I asked if this was an idea shared amongst his comrades in the Warband, but of course, he denied it. He had a very high opinion of his ideas, and thought he knew better than the rest of his fellows, and myself, and thought his knowledge on most points was correct.
However, just as one berry is not representative of the bunch, this lackey is not representative of the Warband. I do not want to interfere with Lord Khalis’s affairs, but it seems he has plucked a very bitter berry from the patch, and I do wonder the purpose of it.
