[Noinkling]

Benat chewed thoughtfully on his mouthful of toast, then waggled his fork slightly in the air as if a thought had just formed and was trying to make its way out. ‘I think you’ve hit on something, my friend,’ he said to Anyopâ, perching his fork on the edge of the plate. ‘And no I’ve not been put off my food. It would take more than a bit of speculation to do that.’ He took a mouthful of now lukewarm tea and washed the toast down.

‘I’ve not traveled to many places, mostly just those about my own home. But those men who have traveled through have seemed to have their particular customs they cling to; little supports that gird their lives. I’ve seen the Rangers that pass through the northern vales use that same custom as did you just before a meal. And there are others that I’ve noted and of course those of my own people. And I assume your people have many others of their own, too.’ Benat was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Things as you say that keep us on a right track . . . or a better track . . .’

He leaned forward, a considering look on his face. ‘I’ve often wondered about the Halflings. They are Men, too, or so I’ve come to think. Smaller in stature, but not in spirit. At any rate that’s the way the stories go, even from my own Granda. I’ve seen them now from Breeland to Bywater. They’ve a lovely way about them, a solid sort of way, though sometimes guarded with us bigger folk.’ Benat furrowed his brow and pushed about a bit of egg with his toast. ‘I wonder what customs strengthen them?’