An Unexpected Vir(tu)al Party

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"Oh my, what a fancy setup," said a voice from the door. "This certainly needs more guests, I hope there will be many of us to raise a toast!"

It was Legate, who had soundlessly ambled in through the neigbourghing corridor. As often, his attire, however aimed for festive occasion, was rather simple, one could easily mistake him for a second aide to the second captain of some backup group of border-guards from Lórien, or something along these lines. But such a misunderstanding was likely to last only until he spoke.

Halfway through washing his hands, Legate had already managed to loudly praise the room's setup, raise his hope that the sunny weather was going to last as it offered also a beautiful view out of the windows, and compliment the present Wights' attire. For good measure, he added a few simple rhymes and riddles that he promptly answered himself, not considering them enough of a challenge to offer for serious contest. When he had finished his washing ritual, he realised that not very much of the soap was left.

"Oh my, I am so sorry," he said apologetically. "But here, careful as I am, I have been, sort of, counting on such a possibility... here's a backup solid block of a pine-scented soap from Mirkwood. Don't ask me how they make it. Or, if you wish, do. I could tell you..."