[Mithalwen]

The griefstricken experience time in two ways and so it was for Tathren. His world had changed so utterly with his masters death though time had not quite
halted but each moment seemed to expand to accommodate his bewilderment and sorrow. Yet he knew that externally things were as they always had been. The part of him that recognised this was suprised when the wain arrived and realised that the hunt had brought them back close to the Ulfing settlement.

He was loathe to let Ulfast's servants handle his master's body but the wain driver was clearly anxious not to linger in a place where the elf lord had come by a violent and mysterious death and it was a matter of moments before the short cortege left the scene, leaving no trace save blood and that would disappear with the next rain. Were he not for the presence of Lachrandir's body borne before him on the wain, it would seem quite unreal. That and the fact that his master's horse walked riderless beside his own, limiting its stride to match the solemn pace of the draught horses. Tathren remembered how he had struggled to keep up on their journey here and felt the tears rise again. He fought to master them.

This is real, he thought and his heart quailed knowing that he must surely answer for that the decisions he made now before Caranthir himself. Fear speeded the passage of time and all too soon were they passing under the gateway to the settlement. Tathren steeled his courage and gave orders, feigning the manner of his late lord and letting seeming arrogance mask his insecurity.

Lachrandir's body was borne into the great hall and was covered with the standard of Caranthir, that his page had commanded be taken down. Where were the Ulfing lords? Did they not honour the dead? Unable to anticipate what might follow Tathren took refuge in indignation.