Galadriel was not so unkind that she would interrupt him, but it was a near thing. As of yet, no one had given her a scale by which to measure dragons, nor explained that one might be blighted. The latter of that information was still lacking but the measure Zevran had provided made Galadriel still with shock. She stared at him as he finished and, wide eyed with surprise, she let out a laugh that was most impolite.

It bubbled up out of her, incredulous and uneasy, and was terribly hard to stay.

"Teeth the size of your head?" Galadriel repeated and lowered the glaive. The butt of the weapon clinked against the stone floor and she found herself leaning on it as she tried to school the bemused expression from her face. Her eyes were apologetic, even as she stifled her laughter.

"Saesamin, forgive me, I cannot help myself," she explained and, sadly, sounded rather mirthful as she did. "Your accomplishments are great, of that I have no doubt, but I had no idea they were so...small."