"Ah, well, I should have expected as much. What self-respecting cat owns any poor soul who feeds him?"

Fingon considers that information, tilting his head in thought. "I think some of my aunt's kindred had a similar recipe, now that you describe it."

There's a guilty twist to his stomach which, hopefully, doesn't show on his face; most of his memories of days in the city of Alqualonde are tainted now.

"I'm afraid I don't remember the name; I've not had octopus of any kind in centuries. But it was quite good."