[Orofaniel]

Evrathol was, as everyone else, stunned by Faroz's decision. Twice, he had looked back and forth as his mother and father; His eyes were about to pop out of his head, and the worst part was that Evrathol hadn’t been aware of that such looks might seem rude and inappropriate. Morgôs, his father, had been just as surprised as his son, or so Evrathol had thought. His mother however, hadn't really shown any signs of disagreement to Faroz decision, nor had she seemed overenthusiastically. Evrathol offered Gjeela a smile as their eyes met, but he couldn't help himself thinking that the choice the two siblings were going to make, would end up like a total disaster. The two of them were as different as two siblings could possibly be, both of were young and a bit immature; Gjeela, a young lass, was sharp tongued and much enchanted by everything that could be called “gossip”. Simiak, who Evrathol favoured over Gjeela, was most likely to be oppressed by his sister as he was often seen as weak and not very confident. This meant that Simiak would probably not have much to say in the decision the two of them had to make. Evrathol concluded that the final word would be Gjeela's. Evrathol couldn't see how Faroz had placed such a decision on any of them. However, if it was the Majesty's decision and therefore it was definitely final. Evrathol accepted it and respected it, but he didn’t have to understand it or agree on anything whatsoever.

After more thought, however, Evrathol figured that this could make things even more interesting. Maybe Faroz was going to choose his heir based on the decision his children made.

Thinking about His Majesty and his announcement, he eyed the Priest Tarkan. Evrathol saw that Tarkan was watching him. Evrathol was embarrassed because he had forgotten to greet him and the High Priestess. How un-thoughtful of him. Leaving the table for a moment, smiling at his mother, he went over to Tarkan "Good evening," Evrathol said awkwardly, but not in a way that Tarkan, or anyone else for that matter, would notice it. Tarkan smiled weakly, greeting the elf. "I can see you and your family have found your way to the King's table," Tarkan muttered. Evrathol was a bit surprised over the remark of this, so he nodded humbly; "Well, Her Majesty insisted. And to be quite frank; The King and the Queen are excellent people, and I am indeed honoured to sit at their table tonight, with the Emissary himself."

Tarkan didn't respond to this. Evrathol wondered what the Priest was thinking. It was hard to say. Tarkan was indeed a hard person to read, and since Evrathol, himself, hadn't met him or spoken to him too many times, it was ever harder. They had, however, occasionally exchanged words. "So, you have met His Majesty's guest?" The priest asked Evrathol. "Barely," Evrathol muttered. Evrathol had only greeted him, nothing more. "But, your father seems to be establishing an acquaintance with the Emissary, is he not?" the priest replied immediately, looking over to the King's table; Morgôs was currently not speaking to the Emissary, but he had done so earlier that evening. "Well, I wouldn't put it that way..." Evrathol said, moving his eyes from Morgos to the Emissary. In fact; Evrathol could not tell whether his father, Morgôs, was impressed by the Emissary, nor could he tell if Emissary was impressed by his father. "What way would you put it then..?" Tarkan then continued. Evrathol shrugged. It wasn't in his nature to shrug, because he usually knew what to say, but the situation required such an action as he had no idea where Tarkan wanted with these questions. "Oh, forgive me, son; I've treated you unjustly - asking you all these questions. This is a celebration and my questions surely are inappropriate," Tarkan then said, smiling at Evrathol. Yet again, Evrathol didn't know how to respond;" No, please sir. We're all interested in the Emissary and his business here. I can't imagine another way to find out without asking questions!" he said laughing softly. The Priest joined him soon.

A woman was moving towards them; her head just visible above Tarkan's shoulders. Evrathol recognized her; it was the High priestess Zamara. "My good lady," Evrathol said politely, bowing. Zamara nodded while she smiled. "Greetings to you as well," she said looking back and forth at Tarkan and Evrathol.

"Zamara," the priest muttered.

"Tarkan," Zamara then said, nodding once again.

Evrathol had only met the High Priestess a couple of times. He would consider himself more acquainted with Tarkan than Zamzara, but it would be a good time now to expand his contacts.