"Or that, being a Balrogue, you had simply cooked a goose, as you say in your country as a jocular metaphor for burning someone to death for some affront."
"Eh oui, monseigneur, oui, mon bon seigneur, it was only revenge, that is all!"
"I understand that, but what I do not understand is how this charming rustic abode is associated with your blood-vengeance. Did the Marquis d'Imrahil run away with your innocent roguette daughter?"
"Non, monsieur, and it was not he upon whom I took revenge. But such a story I would not tell but under the seal of confession."
"Then, monsieur Roguccio, you will return to your abbé Glorfindoni, and he will make you a Luthiniscan or an Arwenican or whatever religious order you fancy, and you will converse about your secrets. Mais, moi, I fear a guest terrified by such phantoms, which do not at all exhibit the perfect decorum of my Fantômes of the Ring; I do not at all like for my servants to fear to tread my gardens in the evening. Besides, I admit that I would have little interest in receiving a visit from the shirrifes, for my Chevaliers have better things to do than kill such canaille. For learn this, Roguccio: in the dark realm whence you came, one only pays justice to be silent regarding flight; but in Arnor, on the contrary, one only pays it when it speaks. I believed you to be combustible and a little contrebandier, but I see you have other wings in your shadow. You are no longer mine, monsieur Roguccio."
