*closes his eyes and rubs them with his free hand, rattling off another set of orders dispatching the better part of his remaining men to the Flower with hardly a break in the dialogue*
*locates Duilien in the increasing muddle and sees she's shifted back to issuing orders* *briefly wonders what she'll say when she learns she's got her pattern*
*hangs up the phone again but doesn't put it away (Arch and Tree and...)* *his heart sinking as he realizes he will undoubtedly best serve Gondolin just about anywhere but at the Flower, where a Balrog-slayer is lord* I need to get out to the Harp.
*grasps your shoulder briefly, hoping to reassure you (make you breathe) through sheer force of will* We'll fix it. It's going to be okay.