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Náin's long day grew longer as the games dragged on, and although the soothing taste of ale mellowed his disposition slightly, it was also making him less alert, which irritated him insofar as he noticed it. He was glad of a distraction, therefore, and becoming more so as he heard what he thought was Erbrand telling Thornden off for assisting Kara.
This would have irked the Dwarf at the best of times, and he muttered to himself that it was lucky Erbrand was speaking so to Thornden rather than himself, because the trapper might find himself cleft in two. Náin had avoided the games not only because of basic Dwarven disinterest, but also because of the artificial nature of the contests. As a Dwarf, there could be no reasonable competition with a Man, and long centuries of experience had taught Dwarves not to engage in it. If the Dwarves won, Men tended to dislike them and alliances were not strengthened, and if Men won, they tended to respect Dwarves less and try to take advantage of them. Even with this being the case, however, Náin was reasonably confident that Erbrand would not have lasted long under the threat of his axe, and took another mouthful of ale, muttering the more about fool humans.
It was hardly his place anyway, he thought, to bother defending the honour of Kara or disabusing Erbrand of whatever notions he may have--a Dwarf would not make a seemly champion for a human maiden--but he admitted to himself that, on the basis of one day's acquaintance, he wouldn't mind at all if Thornden taught Erbrand a lesson and the trapper left Kara alone. Náin was fond of Kara's company, and did not look favourably on Erbrand's presence.
Such were the thoughts rumbling through his tired mind when Degas came up and addressed him.
"Friend," Degas asked, "might I borrow you for a time?"
"Aye," replied Náin. "Provided you do not intend to push me into the remaining competitions, I am at your service."
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