Koe's only reply was a raised eyebrow, as if to suggest that she would not know whether or not the note was sharp. He wished he hadn't put the damned thing away. It would give him a reason not to say anything aloud without seeming as though he didn't want to talk. He didn't want to talk but that was immaterial. He didn't want her to know that he didn't want to talk. It was supposed to be a secret. Koe realized at that moment that he had never been particularly good at keeping secrets no matter how hard he tried to do just that. The note had not been sharp. She was just trying to get him to say something. Anything to break the monotony. Koe thought about what made monotony so terrible until it grew monotonous.
And then he knew.
The dragon opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again.
If he could respect Ilyien - who seemingly killed with abandon, or at least without a proper regard for the consequences of his actions - then Koe did not know why he could not respect himself. It was the violation of an oath, which no creature living had ever heard him speak aloud. That he would never kill again no matter what the provocation. There was no provocation that could be worth killing. If the orc had listened to him, or perhaps had... they should have gone. Gone away without looking back, and taken Lorien's children with them. For three winged creatures of power it would have been simple.
He hated himself for giving in to that desire.
He hated himself even more for knowing that he'd been given no choice.
Again his mouth opened and closed without a sound.
It was difficult to picture himself as that headstrong young creature who had loved Rand with all of his heart. Back then, Rand had been the only family he knew. And even when it became clear that Rand's will was destruction and nothing else Koe could still not make himself hate the great creature. There had been a song, Rand said once, a song that went on into eternity. That song had lived in his heart and guided his hand through many trials. The song was lost. And he wanted Koe to find it again. A song not of death but of life. Koe had searched for it over sea and under stone until at last he'd found it.
And now he'd given it away again.
What did that leave? Telling Onainat to go and find it? With Ilyien? Together the two of them would be powerful. But together the two of them did not make music. He knew it as surely as he knew anything. Someday they might, but who knew when that time would be? And in the duration? Abandoning his daughter to look for an abstraction which he was not truly convinced was real left Koe too muddled to see properly. It wasn't like him to doubt himself, or his abilities. So what was he doing? What was he thinking? Koe fumed silently at the world for making him decide.
Until earlier in this day, he'd had it all.
And more.
"Maybe it needs another cleaning," Koe finally muttered as he removed the ocarina from storage.