|
The conversation had wiped out all thoughts from Lithor’s mind. Now he was simply walking for the sake of it and turned his thoughts to more agreeable topics. Each rhythmic crunch of the frozen grass under his feet reminded him of the youthful days and the crunch of gravel under his feet in Edoras. His days as a soldier had been many and he had seen many places and he would be content if he never saw the inside of a city again in his life. Lithor’s trip to Edoras with lord Eodwine brought back pleasant memories of his station there, but he was older now and the streets and people seemed to change. Upon thinking of his recent trip to Edoras, Lithor remembered his stay at Athanar’s house and the peculiar old grouch that he had for a head servant. What a fascinating person. Lithor thought to himself. His unhappiness brings nothing but misery to almost everyone who encounters him, but I cannot help but find amusement in his melancholy. Speaking of melancholy, what are you so upset about, old man? It is like you said: “Athanar will do what Athanar will do” so stop fretting about it. It is like you always say: “cheerfulness is the best road no matter where it ends.”
Finally at peace with himself, Lithor started to head back to the hall. A night’s rest will do him well, especially with the training in the morning. Lithor had walked amongst the tents and makeshift buildings where the “commoners” stayed. He decided to stop by Crabannan’s tent and thank him for the meager defense on his behalf. However, the tent was empty—still feasting in the hall. With his first purpose tried, Lithor turned to his second task before heading to his bed.
“Alright, who’s there?” Lithor asked as if giving up on a guessing game with a child. “I know you have been following me whoever you are. Did not your parents teach you that it is rude to spy on people? Come out so that I may know you better.”
|