Limping a bit on a sore hip and stopping to catch her breath, Ruthven trundled up to the Horse, catching first a glimpse of Falco in the stables.
"Halfling, what be ye doing here? Are ye thinking of helping to train the horses in steeplechase, seeing as your head's about as high as a decent hurdle?" There was a wry wrinkling around her eyes, but her face itself carried narry a grin.
The hobbit bristled as best he could as he pulled himself up to his tallest height.
"Madam," said he, with a solemness that befitted the seriousness of the situation, "it appears you are unacquainted with the ferocious attack on the Lady Saeryn and the worrisome news of ruffians in the neighbourhood and the even more foreboding news that Edoras herself may shortly be under attack from roving bands of briggands." He paused to let the full import of his words sink in to the woman's head.
Ruthven looked at him aghast. "What, has the lass been hurt?"
"I am caring for her mare right now on her behalf as you might have plainly seen had you not been so eager to crack a joke at my noble race's stature." It cannot be said that Folco did not just huff at little at saying this.
"Where is she? Has she been brought to the Horse?" Ruthven did not avail herself of the opportunity to apologise, for all joking was lost with the news of Saeryn's assault.
"Aye, and there's a right passel of strangers there now. We're none of us too safe. But Master Eodwine and I have matters well in hand."
Ruthven stopped herself. The hobbit's last line would, in happier times, have inspired a further round of teasing or at least an earthy insinutation or two, but she thought she'd best allow the little man his self-importance while she went to seek Bethberry.
"Well, I'm not helping chattering here with the likes of you. Are ye finished your work and will ye join me now at the Horse? We'd likely best be rousing the entire community if what ye say is true."
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