"Have you seen your father die of hunger and the woman you loved extend her hand to his rival while you groaned in the abyss?" cried Monte Fato, tearing his hair.
"No," interrupted Rosédès. "But I have seen him whom I loved ready to become the murtherer of my son!"
The lion was tamed; the Orc was bathed; the dwargue was shaved; the hobbite was taught to have a more subtle sense of humour; the Ent was trimmed into a hedge; the Eagle was pomaded; the Troll was taught netiquette; the FAQ was rewritten; the avenger was conquered.
"What do you wish? That your son live?" said he. "Very well; he shall live!"
Rosédès uttered a cry that made two tears swell from the Eye of Monte Fato, but these tears vanished immediately, having doubtless been collected by Luthienne or one of the Valards, perhaps Nienne; for far otherwise precious were they than the Silmarils of the Noldaux or the Rings of Célebrimbeur.
"Samouard,"said Rosédès. "I have but one more word to say to you."
The Count smiled bitterly.
