Degas cajoled Eodwine. Eodwine didn't like being cajoled. He kept his face in a mere frown as his innards churned to give rise to his arms to lash out. He sighed. And sighed again.
“Were we all just hearing things?” Léof asked, “Or is something else going on here…?”
"What? Heard you voices in the kitchen?" Eodwine asked, distracted. "I heard nothing."
"Surely," offered Falco, "there's a back door to the kitchen. Maybe it's open. I'll go check."
"Shirking real work again, Master Falco?" Eodwine threw the hobbit's way with a rueful grin. Falco grinned back and was gone from sight. Eodwine sighed again, and wishing to look anywhere other than at the ruined door to the kitchen, caught sight of Léof favoring a foot. "Are you limping, boy? Is there something amiss with your foot?"
Intro to Eorling Mead Hall rpg