[Huan]

Emlin was already on his feet, even as Cook had walked toward the kitchen door. By the Valar’s grace! Surely this wouldn’t be Teluyaviel. Her brother had seemed pompous and cold, but not violent. Yet, here was the little Hobbit telling them of loud voices and the sounds of something thrown and broken.

‘If he’s harmed one hair on her precious head I shall send him Westward without need of ship to bear his blighted carcass.’ His eyes were cold as death as he followed after Miz Bunce, though behind them flickered an even colder fear that they might come too late.

He raced up the last of the stairs, leaving Cook panting after him to keep up. He balled his hands into fists and beat upon the door loudly. ‘Open up you craven coward,’ he called, trying the knob of the locked door in vain.