A well aimed mug flew through the doorway and caught the retreating Khelek in the back of his head, bringing him to his knees. A universe of stars wheeled through his mind. He attempted to rise, and was knocked flat by the weight of Tulė hitting him from behind.
Knife drawn from his boot top, Tulė straddled the downed elf. Grabbing Khelek by his hair, he drew his head up and touched the blade of his knife to the hollow of the throat.
Is this light enough for you, Elf? he 'said' icily, his grey eyes gone cold. And as for what Mithadan is or is not thrilled with, it is best you leave that to him and to me.
A hand grabbed a fistfull of Tulė's collar and hauled him from Khelek. What are you doing? Put that knife away! came the stern command from Mithadan.
Impudent Elf! came Tulė, his eyes snapping dangerously. He shrugged off the restraining arm of the man. He should never have come!
He secured the blade back in his boot. Taking a deep breath, he collected himself, and noticed most of the crew had come to see the outcome of this skirmish. He bowed to them. 'A thousand pardons for this display. I have no excuse to offer.' Or apologies, either. he directed at Khelek, being helped now to his feet by Veritas and Mithadan.
He strode down the gangplank, away from the others. Reaching his room, he shut the door securely and threw himself on the bed.
The crew was left to fend for themselves for any hope of dinner.
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Eldest, thats what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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