A cold supper washed down with a cup of thin wine brought no improvement to Mithadan's mood. He sat at the cleared table in the galley with a large map of Númenor in front of him. When to call the ships - that was to be the next part of the plan they tackled. Now Khelek was sulking in his room with a headache and a bruised ego, and Tulë had his door shut firmly.
'Why can't things ever run smoothly on this ship!' he muttered to himself.
We should rename you Mithadan the Mutterer. interjected Angara from her perch atop the cabinets.
The man raised his head and scowled at the dragon. Drawing a smaller map he had made of the area immediately surrounding the underground caverns to him, he bent his head to the study of it.
You must admit that was an interesting pre-dinner encounter between the two elves. Don't you think?
Not raising his head from his study of the maps, he asked Interesting? That is hardly a word I would use to describe it. He raised his head and gazed intently at the dragon. What are you driving at?
Perhaps nothing. replied the dragon, now on the floor and making her way out the galley door. Just that for some, it would seem, old habits die hard.
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Eldest, that’s 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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