[Envinyatar]

Eärnil fidgeted in his chair between the soup course and the next round of appetizer. He had gotten through the odd gelled slice (an interesting shade of red he noted) on a bed of some unrecognizable greens. And though it had some pieces of meats he was not quite sure of, he remembered his manners and took a few small bites before placing his fork in the ‘done’ position. His father, who sat opposite him appeared to have the same reaction, though with a smile on his face he noted he did compliment the cook for what must be some Southron delicacy.

The soup had been delicious. A thin, tasty creamed soup smelling of the mushrooms he liked so well. He spooned it up with gusto, slowing down only when his mother caught his eye and raised her brows at him, then slowly sipped the soup from the spoon.

And now he was faced with some warm appetizer – a fish of some sort, skinned and boned and stuffed, encased in a puffy sort of pastry. The first bite was odd; the crispy light outer layer giving his teeth no resistance and then the dense layered centered of fish and vegetable stuffing. It became a game of sorts to see how slowly he could sink his teeth through the pastry and then how much more pressure it took to push through the fleshy portion. This time it was the King who looked at him askance, a half smile on his face. As he shoveled a manly bite into his own mouth to be dealt with.

And between these courses came the wines that went with them, and though his were well watered, still he was beginning to feel a little light-headed. Just before the main course, another round of wine was brought out, and Eärnil motioned the server down close to him and requested some water only.

Conversation flowed, at least on the King’s end of the table, between the King and his brother, and Eärnil, too, when he could fit in a comment of his own. The Queen was quiet, and Eärnil noted that try as she might, his mother was having a difficult time drawing her out.

The main course came out, a savory smelling dish of small game hens. The server presented the dish to the King, taking off the cover with a flourish, and his uncle in turn as well as the others again made their compliments to the cook. Eärnil took the opportunity during this diversion of attention to turn round and eye Huan, who lay resignedly on his cushion, his muzzle resting on his crossed paws. Only the salad left to go! And then dessert!! Eärnil mouthed to his companion, who raised his head, hoping he would be given the signal to come forward and sit by his master. But Eärnil’s attention was taken by the server who now stood to his right and the boy was focused on moving the small hen to his plate without incident.

The dog yawned, and laid his head back down, giving one last look about the room as he did so. There, on the mantle, he saw something flick out for a brief moment from the shadows behind the vase there. The long, thin black tail of a cat flashed out and was quickly withdrawn. His interested now fully engaged, he sat up, his yellow eyes riveted on the feline position, his hackles raising slightly . . .