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Dracomir had barely recovered from the Balrog King's courtesy (especially surprising after his last reception) when Anakron's entrance and offer to Skittles further contorted the situation, culminating in Skittle's collapse, apparently felled by Sylvester, the Feline of Anakronism.
"It is highly irregular," he ventured, "for the Grand Anakronist to attempt to pass on his duties, as far as I know. Shatters all diplomatic protocol. I say we take this as a sigh that the job is yours and yours alone, Lord Anakron, and move on to the original question, that is, the threatened breakdown in Gondor-Mordor relations."
Tom paused and looked curiously at Skittles. "Incidentally, I wonder if she's dead?" he asked with mild concern. "Corpses can be very unhygienic."
Determined upon a simple way to test, he took out his wand and pointed at Skittles' longest, shiniest, sharpest flick-knife. "Accio Flick-Knife," he remarked coldly. The weapon's hilt flew into his outstretched hand.
At once the Mordorian War Advisor's eyes opened with a jerk and she attempted to pull herself upwards. "Knife...missing...stolen...will...kill..."
"Well, apparently there's life in the Prevailing Spirit of Chaos yet," the Lord Malfoidacil concluded. "Can somebody ring Accident and Emergency?"
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