They stood eye in eye, the blonde elf, slender and dangerous like a drawn blade, and the centaur, towering above him, his broad frame radiating unhidden, enormous strength.
“Your skills are rather impressive”, Oreius said, a faint smile in his dark eyes. “And they are urgently needed… wherever you come from. Aslan will be pleased.”
“Thank you.” The Prince of Mirkwood slowly turned to the scarlet red tent. The precious fabric was drawn back and then his gaze was caught and held by glorious, golden eyes.
He bowed his knee in deep awe, finally understanding.
“My Lord…” he whispered.
“Your skills are rather impressive”, Oreius said, a faint smile in his dark eyes. “And they are urgently needed… wherever you come from. Aslan will be pleased.”
“Thank you.” The Prince of Mirkwood slowly turned to the scarlet red tent. The precious fabric was drawn back and then his gaze was caught and held by glorious, golden eyes.
He bowed his knee in deep awe, finally understanding.
“My Lord…” he whispered.