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"Indeed. The new building work is extensive, and it is fortunate that those with the necessary skills are staying with us," said Náin slowly.
As his mouth slowed down, and his mind began to think rather than just spew forth on the craftsmanship around him, Náin found that he had calmed down during the comfortable discourse on the skills of the Rohirric artisans, and that he was able to assess the conversation without getting too nervous.
He had been boring Kara. A lot. He began to mentally fidget again.
At least, Kara had heard enough about craftsmanship. Náin began to get agitated again, concerned that he was ruining Kara's day off. It was all very well for him to spend the day in agitated agony, but he was a Dwarf of aristocratic lineage and his own master. Kara's days off were less regular, and she was nobly spending this one in his company. It was a trait, he noted in one of the calmer parts of his mind, that was more typical of Men than of Dwarves. It was the trait of generosity.
But Kara did not seem to have wanted him to stop speaking entirely, for she went on.
"Do you know many of the others well? I haven't taken the opportunity to really talk to a lot of them yet though being in the kitchen I do hear what goes on. I suppose I ought to make more of an effort but there has been so much going on recently! The only ones I really see are the children who love to tell Frodides of their day, and they are very sweet, especially little Léoðern - have you seen much of them?"
"I have seen them about," said Náin slowly. Here was a field Dwarves early learned to avoid. It was better to say nothing than to say something offensive, and Dwarves did not compliment if the compliment was not honest. "To be truthful, though, they avoid me, and I would rather have it so. I am older than their grandsires, and I am a serious man. I prefer the company of their elders, and I think they sense this of me."
To Náin's amazement, Kara laughed.
"Náin," she said, "you're old enough to be my grandsire, nearly!"
This, thought Náin was precisely why Dwarves said little in the way of gossip. Kara did not seem offended, but it was well that she was a daughter of Men and not of Dwarves.
"I am afraid I did not think of that," admitted Náin, no longer so nervous of what he was saying as he was wary. "Our races age differently. In Dwarven terms I am considered as much grown up as you are."
"But I am not really considered grown at all," said Kara. "At least, not by everyone."
"I am merely 53," said Náin, at which Kara made a stifled noise of amusement. "Which is young indeed. The famed Gimli son of Glóin was over sixty when he wished to join his father and Thorin Oakenshield on the quest for Erebor, but his father said he was too young, and most Dwarves would have agreed. I am a talented sculptor, and the lands are safe since the War, so my father did not object to my coming to Edoras, but as we Dwarves go, I am young and barely tried."
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