[Soft of heart but sharp of mind, Hythlodaeus is quick to do as he's told. Dropping to a crouch, he is barely missed by the strong swing of Faramir's stolen shovel. The handle connects with a sickening thud, but no other cracking sounds to suggest lethal damage. The gravekeeper falls, and Hythlodaeus has to be equally as nimble as before to avoid being crushed by that dead weight.]

[Panting, he pushes himself back to his feet, making a futile effort to dust the dirt from his robes. There was no way he would ever look anything close to presentable anytime soon.]

What a performance! Fortunate am I to have met with one so gifted in the art of combat. [A pause to take a breath.] ...Would it that we needn't have resorted to such measures.

[Casting a violet gaze upon the unconscious body of their foe, Hythlodaeus feels a twang of pity. He probably would have been caught off guard, as well, were he in the man's position. Ah well, all's fair in love and war, as they say.]

You have my thanks once again, Faramir. It seems my debts to you are racking up by the minute.