..He remembers that face. Not it exactly, But something like it. Celebrimbor. Feanorean. Annoyances. Long gone in the past. Memories. Or so they were meant to be.
Glaurung has not met an Elf yet-- not in the whole, anyway. Not in a way he would recognize one yet. But a drawn sword (swords) can really only mean so many things, so Glaurung has stopped in its tracks and even scuttled back several paces, hackles raised (if it had any hackles), hissing as any serpent might when faced with a threat.
The only reason he doesn't attack is because. Well. It only barely comes up to the Elf's shin.
"It comes from no pit." Deceptively calm, Mairon has his hands at his sides as opposed to the usual clasped in front of him. With any luck the Elf will not recognize him in a slightly different form, but.. there is the dragon. "A man found it in the gardens after we woke. Alone and without owner now as much as it was then."
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Glaurung has not met an Elf yet-- not in the whole, anyway. Not in a way he would recognize one yet. But a drawn sword (swords) can really only mean so many things, so Glaurung has stopped in its tracks and even scuttled back several paces, hackles raised (if it had any hackles), hissing as any serpent might when faced with a threat.
The only reason he doesn't attack is because. Well. It only barely comes up to the Elf's shin.
"It comes from no pit." Deceptively calm, Mairon has his hands at his sides as opposed to the usual clasped in front of him. With any luck the Elf will not recognize him in a slightly different form, but.. there is the dragon. "A man found it in the gardens after we woke. Alone and without owner now as much as it was then."