Sitting in his own Legate's office, behind the stone desk, Nelecar idly sorts through numerous documents on the individuals of Malinor's government. A knock disturbs him, and he flicks the lever which opens the iron blast doors.
"What is it Malavai? What do you want?"
"Greetings, my Okarir'sil," the brown-haired elf said, ever dutiful. He was likely masking his true intentions - Nelecar knew that Malavai wasn't to be trusted after that incident, but then again Nelecar suspected a lot of things, most of which weren't true.
"Aliris is dead," he continued. "I saw the body for myself. Gutted. It wasn't the nicest sight but then again I have seen much worse."
The Okarir'sil went pale for a moment and began to grind his teeth. "The mori'quessir. It was them, wasn't it? It had to be, he was in their custody. Was there a weapon nearby? Any other evidence? Tell me!" He slammed his fist on the desk.
Malavai sighed. "Nothing. I don't think the mori would have had him killed, you see. He was far more useful to them as a slave. More than Eowyn, anyway, and they didn't kill her."
"Lona. Does she know? I had to give her that poem from him...just...tell her if she's not already aware. It's a job that I'm not willing to do. Aliris was bloody thorn in my side but he was a pure mali'aheral. Just leave me. I have much deliberation to do..." Nelecar sighed.
Malavai nodded, bowing. "Yes, laurir. I'll do it as soon as possible."