Oreramar

If one taunts a bear, one should not be surprised when it responds with claws. At a time when Odithar was needed too badly and too oft to restrain any longer, Kvirrasir’s curse took hold of Xilvendar’s mind, and he thought it great sport to mock the Blood Knight. “Greetings, Candle Stub,” he began, and the mighty warrior stared at first in incomprehension. “What is this?” “You, of course, with your shining helm atop a soft wax head. Tell me, is your crown light in more than one sense, because there is nothing within your skull?” “I’m not stupid.” “I never said you were!” Xilvendar cried, feigning surprise. “In fact, I rather admire you. I think it’s a miracle of Creation that you have the fortitude to speak at all, given how frequently our dear Watcher has caught you in her net of chains.” Odithar began to growl now, but Xilvendar rode blithely onward. “She is hardly subtle, and one would think you’d know her intent by now when she approaches with leash in hand. Thus, you are