The silence that followed cracked like thunder in the cavern.
The brown elf staggered back, dirt falling from his hands. "Eldorath's prince… alive?" His voice broke, disbelief battling against awe. "We thought, you were said to be lost, cut down in the wars above."
"I am not lost," Lindarion answered coldly. His eyes did not leave the man's. "And neither are you, though you hide in the dark like a hunted thing."
The elf's lips trembled, torn between reverence and bitterness. He bowed his head, not deeply, but enough that the roots trembled with the weight of it. "I am Tharion, of Lorienya. Forgive me. It has been long since I have seen kin beyond these roots."
Nysha's shadows stirred faintly, her gaze sharp. "What does a Lorienyan elf dig for in the dark?"
