The Keepers were sitting around the hearth, having just finished recounting their individual adventures, and the ale was freely flowing from the cask.
Elenwë stands abruptly, albeit a bit wobbily. The Keepers had noticed in the past that the Eladrin did not hold her liquor well, and that after a few pints, she would sometimes begin to switch back and forth between Elvish and Common. They looked up with interest.
Elenwë leans heavily on her staff in an attempt to steady herself and clears her throat.
“Hantanyel an návë i otornor i avá harya-nyë,” she declares.
There is an awkward silence of non-understanding.
So of course, Brie speaks into it. “Sexist.”
Elenwë glares at the assassin. “What?”
“That was so sexist.”
Seething, Elenwë begins to shout incoherently, mostly in Elvish. You pick out words like, “half-blood”, “shadow lurker” and “Drow scum”.
Brie looks bored. She takes another swig from her tankard, not looking up to acknowledge the insults. In the same motion, she swiftly kicks at Elenwë’s staff. The Eladrin falls in her face and the swearing stops. She seems to be unconscious and drooling, but otherwise ok.
“Typical aristocrat,” Brie mutters. “I mean, you think they would have talked about the Elvish suffragette movement of The Year of the Twilight Hammer in her elite Eladrin private school.”
Her tone suggested that she didn’t think much of elite Eladrin private schools.
She bends down to speak loudly into Elenwë’s ears. “YOUR SISTERS DIED FOR YOUR FREEDOMS.”
After another awkward silence, someone asks Brie what Elenwë had said.
Brie rolled her eyes and stands up, heading for the kitchens. “I mean, ‘Thank you for being the brothers I never had’ Way to stand up for the patriarchy, am I right?”