"Westu Thornden hál!" responded Elfthain looking up across Safran's broad back at the greeting. Had the tall man been merely Javan's brother he might have been less formal, but he did not forget that as well as being a lot older he was also the Eorl's steward and erred on the side of caution, despite the genial greeting he had received.
"Aye sir, Elfthain Théodmund's son am I, at your service. Javan has spoken of you". The boy (and very boyish and awkward he felt in comparison to the Steward) paused in his grooming, bowed and then allowed himself to relax a little adding "only good things, of course!", then nodding towards his horse "T'is a small mercy at least, she is not a grey". He grinned ruefully. "And it must be done for she needs to be exercised even if we are not leaving today - maybe then she will have less energy for rolling in mud".
As he spoke he mentally assessed the man before him; tall as his uncle Elwin and as broad, though much younger, and darker in colouring, but not as dark as Javan. There was a confidence in his manner and a spark of something in his eyes, but what? Humour? Fiery spirit? Ambition? he wondered. Whichever it was, Elfthain concluded that looking up to this man might be more than a physical necessity.
"I don't suppose you know sir, when we are leaving that is?".
Last edited by Mithalwen; 09-14-2015 at 04:09 AM.
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