[Anguirel]

Dracomir nodded in a way that seemed both solemn and flippant, if that were possible.

"We shall strike at night, then, Skittles, and track down these fow...I mean, vile, creatures. I know you once dreamt, m'lady, of becoming a great oak tree."

Skittles stepped back, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, but the pseudo-Gondorian continued.

"And one day, without doubt, you shall be. But now is not the moment. You must take upon yourself the sacred duty of being a Hawk."

"Kreee kriii skkrrr krigh," Skittles answered, which was Hawkish for "Yes, and you shall be a Werewolf Hunter."

"We shall convene in the evenings to discuss our next moves," Malfoidacil went on sagely. "The culprits could be anyone in this castle. Even one of the other ambassadors. We must tell no one and never let our guard down. And, in strict confidence, I'll tell you who I'm suspecting most at the moment."

"Lola?" Skittles hissed. "Krree krivamp krree."

"One better," Tom replied. "I'm off to keep an appointment with the Spymaster of Mordor, Lady Alli..."

With that, he turned and Disapparated.