[Nogrod]

So it was a positive answer. This man in front of him really was the son of the “One that runs at dusk”. The son of the “Owl’s eye”... If I just could improve a bit and hold my mouth also when relaxed and comfortable after a beer or two!

Rían felt like he had quite consciously pushed his head straight into a beehive – if there ever was such a large one to accomodate his head. He kind of smiled inwardly to his lousy metaphor. Maybe he was just poking a bear that was just coming off from its’ hibernation... What a fool he was! As long as he could remember, he had just slipped this once, wanting to make sure he could be in peace, just for this night, to assure some relaxation after all those days, weeks, and months of being alert, tense and on guard all the time. And on this night, of all creatures on Middle Earth, he had literally crashed into the son of “Grimgor Bearhand”, and on the top of it all, bought him a beer and insisted on his company, then revealed his knowledge of him & his own identity! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!! A way out of this? None to be seen at the moment. I would have to come up with something, and quickly! I could so well had just made my apologies and go out to have my pipeful! Or why couldn’t I just have had some nice small-talk about the Beorning life-style and the weirdness of other cultures, thrown some jokes familiar to both of us, drank my pint and excused myself with all the best wishes to a fellow-Beorning? Then I could have rejoined Falar, Naria & others. They seemed nice folk. At least they didn’t seem to him like people in the midst of trouble, where Rían now found himself in.

Rían had thrown himself into a troll’s cave, and could not come up with a way out. The narrow stare of Grimhorn didn’t make him feel any more comfortable. It was, like this guy was just pondering about the wealth of his knowledge. There should be only the right words now. He should get over this one, for he surely knew, what was it like to meet his father. This giant propably didn’t expect this knowledge with him, yet. He would have to hold that back as long as possible.

“Well, I just thought the same, you kind of said... There sure aren’t many Grimgors around. But how can I add together the name of Grimgor and the famous name of the “Owl’s eye”? That you must have asked yourself. Well...” Immediately Rían realized, that he was as a fly in a spider’s web, by moving boldly to reach out, he had just entangled himself even tighter in to the net!

Grimhorn seemed concentrated on him. He had raised his eyebrows, clearly waiting for Rían to continue. But suddenly, there glimmered a dim light of hope! Maybe this cavetroll had just forgot Rían’s introductioning of himself! Maybe Grimhorn didn’t quite know, who he was? This was desperate, he knew that, but nothing else came to his mind at the moment.

“... Well. My father, you propably won’t know him, was a kind of a seer”. Rían tried now to avoid the name “hermit”, by which his father had been known all over the Beorningland. “He once told me to revere the “One that runs at dusk”, and at a same time Grimgor Bearhand, for they are the very same man. Now that is what my father told me. The name of Grimgor hasn’t meant much to me over the years, but the stories of the “Owl’s eye” I surely have heard, many times. And yes, I have now made the connection. But I can swear to you, with a beorning’s word, that I’ll never mention this to anyone. Rest assured, you can count on my word.”

Rían took a glance to check, that no-one was listening to his speech. Grimhorn noted his care. For a moment they were both silent. Grimhorn stared at him, clearly in his thoughts, Rían was just wondering, what this grin meant this time. He tried to lighten the situation – and possibly turn this giant’s mind to somewhere else.

“Care to taste this one?”, he asked, “It’s Old Boff’s. Very good stuff indeed”. With these words, he offered his pipe towards Grimhorn.