|
"So you're from southern Gondor, are you, love? Whereabouts?"
Kannah looked up, her gaze darker than the ale that she set before Bragorn. Her brown eyes studied him briefly but intensely as she decided on an answer. She turned her head a bit, and the bells that hung from her ears jangled in a merry way that contrasted with her sour expression. "My people...they are from the Ethir Anduin," she said finally, slipping a napkin underneath the mug. "I was born in Dale. Raised there." She looked up at Bragorn from the table, her eyes challenging him to say something.
"My father was a healer," she continued imperiously. "We moved to the South so that he could procure the supplies that he needed. They--my parents--started something of a medicinal business there. The South is good for business. Lots of commerce, and good products." She rustled her silk skirts. "These are from Harad." This was a lie. They were imitations from Rohan. "My parents made a good living in the South. But--"
She stopped abruptly. What was she doing? She was about to tell this rogue everything! She tossed her hair over her shoulder and rubbed her hands vigorously on her apron. "I've told you enough about myself. What of you, sir? From whence do you hail?" She endowed the sir with enough scorn to cow several grown men, but she was not surprised when Bragorn hardly seemed to notice.
|