Chapter 35‘Got yourself in a fine mess there, brother,’ Menedrion said as he unexpectedly embraced Arwain. Then he looked him up and down appraisingly. ‘How much of that is yours?’ he asked.
Arwain followed his half-brother’s gaze, looking first at his hands and then at his clothes. In common with his companions, he was covered in blood. Tentatively he felt about himself.
‘None, I think,’ he concluded after a moment. ‘Or not much anyway.’
Menedrion shook his head and reached up to touch Arwain’s helmet. He ran a finger along an indentation. ‘It’s a wonder,’ he said. ‘You’re supposed to be the thinker, Arwain. Has it never occurred to you that blocking stones and sword blows with your head is not the wisest of things to do?’
There was little time for such exchanges, however. Menedrion’s
