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Old 01-16-2007, 02:40 PM   #79
bill_n_sam
Animated Skeleton
 
Join Date: Sep 2006
Posts: 45
bill_n_sam has just left Hobbiton.
With some relief, Gunna had leapt up as Kata began making her good-byes and shepherding her daughter out the door to fetch the cart. The gathering had been an awkward one. Gunna knew that Kata, Dulaan, and Tora would not misrepresent anything which had transpired here, but she feared that the wagging tongues of her neighbors might make overmuch of the visit of the Borrim stranger. She saw that he, too, was more than ready to depart, with a quietly desperate scowl on his brow.

Tora had also stood, explaining that she too must leave. Gunna had just turned to speak with Kata when the young woman queried, “You know, Gunna, Master Dag was telling me that he was making a sword for Ulfang's son? What can this mean, I wonder? And which son? Has he told you any of these things? Are we...are we allowed to speak of them?”

Tora stopped suddenly and chewed nervously on her lip, as if perhaps she had said more than she had intended. Gunna glanced instinctively at the Borrim, but he was himself rising to go and, if he had heeded her words or if they meant aught to him, he gave no sign. Indeed, he was at the door in an instant, and did not pause, but passed through quickly.

Suddenly remembering the whole reason why he had accompanied her home in the first place, Gunna roused herself and called after him, “Wait! You have forgotten your cheese!” Scooping up the large, white cheese, she hurried out the door behind Kata and Dulaan, who had finished their good-byes to Mem and the baby.

“Thank you again, Hunta, for carrying this” Gunna said politely, handing him the cheese. “And thank you for staying to have some tea.”

“Thank you for the tea,” he replied gruffly, then whistled for his dog, turned on his heel and stalked off down the narrow street. Gunna smiled to herself, knowing Dag too would have been similarly embarrassed to be forced to take tea with a flock of cackling hens.

Stepping back into her little house, Gunna saw that Tora still wore a worried look on her face. Gunna smiled reassuringly and placed her hand on the girl’s shoulder, saying, “Don’t worry. You said nothing wrong. I’m sure that one has no interest in the work of a smith.” She nodded her head at the door through which Hunta had just left. “And it’s not as if the word won’t get around, if it hasn’t already. It was Ulfast who is having the sword made. You know how these chieftains love to throw their weight around – if they want something, it must be done right away. Everyone else can wait.” Gunna forced a laugh and rolled her eyes comically, although she knew none of her friends would be deceived by her assumed levity. At least, Kata and old Dulaan would know full well that even such apparently business-like arrangements often led to more formal bonds of obligation and loyalty. “But I’m sure Dag will be finished with your father’s work now. Run along, and tell him not to forget his dinner!”

Gunna turned to make her farewell to the others. She embraced old granny warmly, saying, “We don’t see you enough, Dulaan. Come keep us company anytime. You need to teach Mem more of those songs of yours.” Then, cupping Jóra’s chin in her hand and smiling, Gunna told the girl, “If you don’t stop growing so fast, your mother and father will have to find a giant for you to marry, maybe one of these elves – I hear they are as tall as a birch tree.” The little girl’s eyes widened at the improbable, but fascinating, thought.

Finally, Gunna laid her hand on Kata’s arm, turning her away from the others slightly. “I would talk to you a moment, Kata. This matter of the sword . . . “ Here, Gunna lowered her voice. “It has me worried, in spite of what I said just now. I . . . I wish sometimes that Dag did not keep so to himself. He . . . he thinks that if he stays apart, stays out of these endless squabblings between the chieftains, that he will escape being drawn into their plots and schemes. But I am worried.” Her dark eyes looked deeply into her friends’, an unspoken bond of understanding passing between them. These things, a woman knew . . . and feared. “Grimr knows so many of the folk here in the town, and in the countryside. I’m sure he must talk with the other men. If . . . if only Dag could speak with him. Perhaps Grimr could advise him.”
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