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Hastily, Coldan put on Sam the servant's costume and a pair of furry socks that were supposed to look like hobbit feet while striving to digest what Harrenon had told him about their encounter with the mysterious Lord Samwise, who had quite inconveniently turned out to be not only Frodo the Ringbearer's esquire himself, but moreover neither dead nor the halfwit they had been going to present him as. Just like Aldarion to make a mess of his history! Who knew what else might be wrong with the script?
Nevertheless, it was high time for them to start rehearsing at last, so he stepped onto the stage together with Sereth and Amdír, and they began with the first scene, in which Frodo told his fellow-halflings Sam and Peregrin about the Ring and their quest to destroy the Dark Lord. Coldan had little to do in this scene except to nod in the right places, utter a few stupid interjections and cheer Captain Frodo, Lord of the Ring in the end, so he allowed his attention to stray just enough to overhear Therian saying to Brinn:
"Or there might just be one Merry and he is a he, and he is also only a couple feet tall, and he may or may not own the parts of the Shire that Samwise and Prince Peregrin do not? It was all pretty confusing, especially with Branor talking all about how our dinner companion was not really alive..."
What was that? Could it really be that Mary the heroic elf-maiden was in fact another halfling, and a male to boot? Thoughts started racing like mad in his brain, one precipitating the other like the gears of a clockwork, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out: "Zen - zen she - I mean he - vasn't in love viz Boromir at all?"
Luckily - for one look at Asta's irate face told him she was less than amused by this turn of things - his words were drowned in the following heated discussion between Aldarion and Brinn, the playwright advocating some thorough revision of the play while Brinn adamantly insisted on going on with the rehearsal.
"Besides," Asta protested, "I am most definitely not going to play a halfling!"
Of course, he thought, wincing with dismay. How silly to assume for a moment that she would take the threat to see her one showpiece role abolished, or changed into another furry-footed midget, lying down. He hid his blush behind a corner of his cloak, pretending to rub at the smudge of ink on his nose, and muttered to himself: "A nice pickle ve hev landed ourselves in!"
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