Talan stood in a corner of the great hall. He was needed at the time, and the friendly assistent innkeeper had suggested he joined the feast in the Great Hall. Talan had done so, but not because he wanted to. The Hall was filled with people, well-dressed and perfumed ladies, men in fancy clothes. He could hear their conversation, up-styled words and issues that he had never heard about. His childhood had taught him to hide from those with money and nobility, and yet here they were, gathered to have a good time.
He went back into the kitchen, and sat in a chair. All around there was food, and all kinds of it; Pies, cookies, fruits, different kinds of meat and lots of ale and wine. The cook, Froma, dismissed that lass he had helped with the flowers. He looked at her until she turned her head, and he quickly turned his head down, embarassed at being caught in staring. She came and sat next to him, but did not speak.
"You're not much for parties either?", he asked after some silence. Delia did not answer, she merely nodded.
"Nor me. I am most comfortable here, and not with all those people. I keep wondering what they think when they look at me." He did not know what else to say; he had never been a man of many words, and now, more than usual, did he notice his lack of eloquency.
[ July 01, 2003: Message edited by: Daniel Telcontar ]
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Two beer or not two beer, that is the question; by Shakesbeer
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