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‘Emlin?’
Teluyaviel’s eyes peeked through the small gap of the opened door. There he was, indeed, looking angry, his fists still balled from where he’d beat against the door. And next to him stood a Halfling, with a rather formidable wooden club of sorts held ready in her hand.
‘Cook?’
Oh, did she feel foolish now. She stepped through the door closing it firmly behind her. ‘So sorry to cause all this trouble,’ she said. ‘It wasn’t Tindo who was breaking things; it was I.’ She looked from the one to the other of them. ‘He was going on so when I told him my news that . . . well, I’m afraid I picked up the water pitcher and threw it at him to get his attention. Luckily, I missed him, but I’m afraid it shattered in a million little pieces when it hit the door.’ She colored slightly and sent a sorry look toward Cook. ‘We’ll pay to have it replaced of course.’
From beyond the closed door came the sounds of a few curses in Elvish and then a long moan of exasperation. Telu opened the door to check on her brother, and through the opening the trio could see him sitting on his bed. He was bent over and his face rested in his hands. He was shaking it, all the while murmuring, ‘And now what shall I tell Mother? She set me one simple task and I’ve failed completely . . .’
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Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . .
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