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"I would speak to you in measured words, if I might- in contrast to last night," Náin clenched his jaw as he replied to Degas. The greater height of the man did not intimidate him (few Dwarves, wisely or foolishly were intimidated by height). But the temptation to forget the whole matter, or to blow up in shouting, or to just slap the foolish boy in the face was strong.
"In fact," he pressed on, before Degas could get another snide comment in, "it is about my behaviour last night that I wish to speak."
"Oh?" Degas didn't bother trying to hide the sarcasm. "Did Eodwine interrupt you before you were finished? Have you got more to say?"
"Would you be silent for a minute and let me get on with it!" Náin burst out, grabbing Degas by the tunic.
"I am trying to apologize to you for my behaviour last night!" he shouted at the boy. Then, realizing what he was doing, he released Degas, drew in a deep breath, and continued in more normal voice before Degas had recovered his wits.
"It was wrong of me to barge in on you, your sister, and the Lord Eodwine. It was wrong of me to raise my voice at the lot of you. And... it was wrong of me to be so brusque in apologizing. I would have your forgiveness, if you can give it."
Feeling more awkward than he had yet that morning, Náin clasped his hands behind his back and rocked slightly on his heels, awaiting an answer.
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