[Ealasaide]

Rochadan laughed rather sheepishly and cast another look at the loose rung of the ladder. "Really, it's no trouble at all about the ladder. I should have fixed it months ago." He tipped it away from the wall in preparation to take it away for the necessary repair, then stopped. "Thank you for sharing your story," he added. "And pardon me for prying. It's just that I have never gone so far south as Harad and tales of the place interest me. Now... if there is anything you would like to know of Esgaroth or the Dale, please ask. Perhaps I could help regarding this stargazer you seek."

"I'm sorry if I seemed a bit abrupt in terms of my own story," he continued after an awkward pause. "I'm just not accustomed to talking much about myself. I never know what to say exactly. If you have any questions, though, please feel free to ask. And about the inn as well. I don't know how long you plan to stay in Esgaroth, but I think you will find the people here at the inn are a good lot."

"Finian will take good care of both you and Grimm," he finished with a smile, not wishing for the conversation to end just yet, but not quite sure how to prolong it either. As it was, he felt as though he was reaching for straws. He never had been any good at talking to women, especially not pretty ones, and had a way of coming across as either awkward or aloof, depending on how much of an effort he was making at getting along. Kellan interested him with all her talk of Harad and roof-climbing and star-gazing, but he had a feeling that, if he wasn’t careful, he was soon to pass directly through awkward into stupid. Finally, he sighed. He should just give it up and fix the ladder. Let the lady go about her business.

Just then, he felt a small tug at his pants leg. “Papa, does the doggie bite?” Sallie had limped over while he was talking with Kellan and now stood beside him with one little arm wrapped tightly around his knee. The other hand pointed at Grimm.

Instinctively, Rochadan reached down with one hand and smoothed the child‘s hair. “My daughter, Salaidhwyn,” he said to Kellan by way of a quick introduction. Then, he spoke to Sallie. “This is Miss Kellan, Sallie. Grimm is her dog. Perhaps you should ask her if the doggie bites.”

Sallie slid shyly behind his leg, not taking her eyes off of the big black dog for a second. “Miska-lyn,” she said finally to Kellan, peeking around the edge of her father‘s trouser leg. “Does the doggie bite?”