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Holding her hands behind her back, Ginna calmed herself with a deep breath and plunged into the tale.
"I had been carrying the dishes to the table when the hobbit entered with his--" she hesitated, and settled with "companions. They surprised me, but I shouldn't have screamed so."
From the corner of her eyes she could see the hard expression on her father's face, and tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the lord's questioning look towards the floor.
"And I am so sorry for the dishes," she added as she followed Eodwine's gaze, and quickly glanced apologetically at Frodides. "They slipped from my hands. I will do what is needed to replace them. And please, do not blame--them," she gestured at the door through which the three left the kitchen. "They did nothing wrong. It was all my fault."
She stopped, realising she had spoken too much. "I'm sorry," she whispered, and proceeded to pick up another broken piece from the floor, careful to hide her wound. She tried not to think about her father's exasperation, or the lord's and Frodides's disappointment, or what lay ahead of her now, concentrating instead on cleaning up the mess she made with as little damage to her hands and her dignity as possible.
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