[Anguirel]

The moment the "day off" was declared, the diplomats began to disperse, some looking rather thankful for the opportunity of escaping each other's company presented so early. But the Lord Dracomir Malfoidacil was not such a one. He stayed at his seat, watching the unravelling of the party through his chilly eyes, which at last settled on none other than Skittles, Warlordess of Mordor.

"Hello again," he remarked, in almost friendly tones, as he rose from his chair in a languid motion. "Sleep well?"

"A Warlordess should be sleepless," Skittles answered loftily.

"Well, that can't have been very difficult last night. You're King Roggie's Warlordess. Surely you know something of what went on?"

"I could kill you," she said, "but then I'd have to tell you."

"I see," Dracomir murmured. "It would have been a real scandal, after all, if the King of Mordor hadn't told his Warlordess what the cause of the mysterious howling and screaming one dark night was. Particularly if, say, some Gondorian ambassador then marched off and discovered the secret before she did. If she really didn't know what had happened, she'd evidently have to go with him to make sure he didn't sabotage state confidences. But obviously you know already, so the situation doesn't arise. Now I'm off to do some detective work. See you later."

Tom produced his finest trademark thin smile, and started off down one corridor. Some minutes passed before a knife flew through the air and sliced a few of his hairs off above the ear.

"Obviously," a satisfied voice reeled off, "it would be a real scandal if some ignorant know-it-all Gondorian ambassador were allowed to go wandering round a castle interfering with things, when he could be under the close custody of the Warlordess and Oak Tree Paramount of Mordor!"

Dracomir turned and was not that surprised at what he saw. Skittles was coming, she was shadowed by her cat, and she was wearing leather...