Zevran had yet to be anything less than unfailingly polite, his dig caught her attention even if his tone did not. She tried to stay her mirth but it was a lost cause, she felt too much relief to keep it bottled within her and, as he idly turned the knife in hand, she offered him a pinched smile.

"Unlike you, I have never before slain one, be they small or great. I cannot contest your achievement." Galadriel admitted freely. It was subtle but she leaned on her staff as she spoke, her whole posture at ease. Her shoulders shook but she reined in her delighted laughter--at least, she managed, for the moment.

"The Urulokë were a scourge upon all the world; mountains fell beneath the and great cities were lost to flame," Galadriel explained. Though she tried for somber, she was a far cry from it. "The last one I saw was so great and so terrible, it rose so tall, that its wings darkened the horizon at nearly two hundred leagues distance."

She smiled, despite the grim comparison.

"I am not so much disappointed, mellon nin, as I am relieved."