Moonspear my lord: the king is dead

The woman was moon to her sun, and carried the weight of both in her presence. Clearly the leader; Madhuri bowed her head as she approached, preparing the canned speech she had worked so hard to preserve and present in this far-flung place.

Greetings, to you and to Moonspear, Madhu replied. At least she had found the right mountain, then. I come to announce that Llewellyn, second of his name, King of Mynydd, is dead.

Despite herself, a lump rose in her throat. Her grandfather had been stern but fair, and always partial to her due to their similar appearances. 

A Bleddyn born and bred, no doubt, he'd rumbled.

Our King once took refuge here, during the Great War, she continued. Moonspear took him in, and he never forgot the great kindness your wolves paid him, even once safe upon the throne once more. Your mountain is woven into our family story for all time.

Whew. 

All that done, Madhu visibly relaxed and let out a great exhale. How does Moonspear fare? she asked, the tension in her shoulders easing.