Ecthelion smiled, more just as slight upturn to his lips and clear in his pale eyes than a wide smile. He understood, without needing details. "That is good to hear."

Deft motions had him swiftly give his flute a clean, though he planned to play more later. He was more than happy to speak with another trapped here, especially with one of Arda.

"I am Ecthelion, last of Gondolin before it fell." How well could this dwarf read between the lines? Could he figure out just by that that Ecthelion was dead? That he'd come from the Halls of Mandos?