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Uldor sat in mute and stunned silence. He struggled to let none of his mixed feelings to show on his face. His jaw clenched fiercely and his eyes remained narrow as the appallingly long missive was read out. As the introductions and the half intelligible words ran on, though, his attention and his tenseness slackened. His relaxed and slumped lower in his chair. Until his eyes fell on Ulwarth. The youngest son was crumpled in his chair until he looked as though he was practically dead. Uldor sat upright suddenly, his back became rigidly straight again, his eyes opened fully and he turned them once again on the envoy.
At that moment, Lachrandir looked up, he briefly met Uldor’s eyes as he made some sort of apology. Then he spoke in a louder, more commanding voice. It was a language that Uldor did not know, but it caused the blood to heat in his veins and he felt his very heart move with some emotion that was both hot and terribly cold at the same time. The silence in the hall as the elf read these words was heavy and so still that it was almost piercing.
Then, finally, he came to the point of his letter. Every eye, every individual attention was on the elven messenger. He read his lord’s bidding. Seven thousand men under the command of Ulfang himself! Uldor cast a look at his aging father. What would he think? How would he react? Surely he would not make an answer to this elf before Uldor had a chance to speak with him. Surely he would not. Uldor looked again at Lachrandir. What would Uldor advise? There was so much to be considered! Seven thousand men to be sent to fight another’s war. He commenced to listening once again to the missive.
Then another thought struck him violently. Would they be permitted to say no? Or was this a command, to be obeyed without question? Once more the muscles in his jaw tightened, his black eyes flashed as his eyelids became slits in his face.
“There ends my missive,” the elf said, looking up and beginning once more to roll the parchment. “Perhaps we could discuss arrangements of my lord’s muster in some more private place?”
For a very brief moment, silence met his question. Then Uldor seemed to bring himself out of some spell with a little difficulty. He stood up slowly, bringing himself up to his full height, meager besides that of the elves.
“We can go back into the next room. It is a private place, prepared for such purposes, with chairs enough for all of us, and a table. We can discuss whatever arrangements you think will be necessary. Am I not correct, sir?” he asked, turning towards his father.
The old man nodded his head slowly in agreement and stood. He stepped down from his chair and led the way towards the door. Uldor stood aside and motioned with his hand to the elves to follow his father. Lachrandir moved forward at once, and Tathren rose and followed close behind him. The three brothers came behind the elves.
The room they entered had no windows. Lamps lit the room in a smoky light and a fire burned in a huge fireplace at the far end. In the center stood a large, round table about which was placed several carved chairs. Ulfang walked with steady, measured steps to the chair closest to the fire and there he sat down. The others found themselves chairs and as it turned out, the two elves sat on a side of their own, with the four Ulfings facing them from the other opposite side of the table.
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