Maglor doesn't like the cold, but he's endured worse than this (his cousins endured much worse, so why should he complain, who is at fault for that?). Besides, his folk can endure much worse than a little cold and lack of food - he's already started to plan short rations for himself - the humans here need it more. But there are monsters to hunt in the meantime - meat is meat, if one is at need.

He stands quiet and still and perhaps unassuming, but the blade in his hand glitters sharply as he smiles at Ravine.

"Will you help me kill it, Lady?"