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Merisuwyniel and Gravendil stood on the deck of the ship with Squire Windsor beside them. They watched in awe as the island met its spectacular end, and yet there was beauty as well as violence in the explosion.
"It is kind of gorgeous, isn't it?" Merisu said. "I wonder what happened to all the people we left behind there?"
Gravendil said nothing.
"It was a very strange island," his spouse continued. "I had visions which I did not understand - and that is not normal for an Elf of my intellect." She turned to him. "Did you experience anything unusual, or meet strange people there?"
Gravendil swallowed, but quickly regained his poise. Not for nothing had he concealed his true thoughts from evil lords and lordesses in his past life. Ósanwe could make life difficult for Elven spouses who hesitated to share each and every thought with their mates, yet somehow he felt that he did not want to tell his wife of his encounter with the dancer. He carefully schooled his mind to trees - many, many trees - then opened it to her. "Sorry, dear, you must have gotten all the excitement and left none for the rest of us - except maybe Gateskeeper there..."
Windsor paid no attention to their conversation - he watched the aftermath of the explosion with only one thought on his mind: "Mushrooms!"
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