[Novnarwen]

Their conversation ended. Tarkan had remained motionless during most of the time Evrathol had spoken, only muttering a few words now and then to assure the elf that he was still listening, (quite attentively, I might add ). After a few moments silence, the elf had left hurriedly, saying his farewells to the Priest, who promised the elf to look into the matter. "We will talk again soon," he had said politely and smiled faintly as he took the elf’s hand in his and pressed it. Thus, he had left, leaving Tarkan immobile and alone. It had indeed been an interesting conversation which had taken an unexpected, but interesting, turn as it developed. Simultaneously as Tarkan had heard the elf speak, ideas were being formed inside of the Priest’s head; ideas which he were eager to keep to himself until he was ready to share them with the ‘right’ people. He sat down, his mouth halfway open. Already, he knew that Pelin supported him in building a new Temple in honour of the sky God, but did Evrathol support him as well? He frowned. The elf did so indirectly, Tarkan supposed, as he didn't seem to like Zamara, who was the most faithful and basically the only true representative of the goddess. This can prove interesting ... Tarkan thought to himself, sipping the rest of his tea.

Sitting comfortably, he was still uneasy by the words that were constantly being repeated inside of his head.

"When I arrived earlier, they were both in a heavy debate, but both were silenced as I entered the county yard. As for eavesdropping; no I'm not the kind, but I must be honest and say that I did hear some talk of the Emissary...."

Evrathol's words were in a way highly disturbing. They were all the same unimportant, he concluded fast. The priest couldn't really expect people to talk about other things; certainly not today, the day after the banquet, which had been held in the honour of the newly arrived guest, the Emissary. Tarkan too, would also probably have chosen this topic in a conversation, if of course; he had anyone to discuss it with him.

The expression the elf bore while saying it though, was probably the thing that bothered the priest the most. It was a worried expression, as if afraid that by the word 'Emissary' his head would explode. All right, the Priest thought to himself, knowing that he was exaggerating . . . just slightly. Tarkan was always being accused for exaggerating about things, but this was nevertheless different. Tarkan was only trying to digest what he had witnessed. One had to admit that it was highly unusual that someone came to him and told him of their concern of his very own colleague. Yes, Zamara, the High Priestess was a colleague. They didn’t have to like each other to be. It was even odder, if not awkward, that this person, in this case the male elf, had expressed his concerns when it came to his mother. His very own mother, Arlomë. And in best of all, Evrathol and himself were only acquaintances who had barely met! Tarkan swallowed. Was he being fooled?

Despite of the last terrifying thought, he could not help think about the elf’s sudden haste to leave. It must be taken into consideration though, that he left so hurriedly after confession about hearing his mother and the Priestess discuss the Emissary. Maybe he regretted telling me? Why?