[Ealasaide]

The stablemaster watched with dire misgivings as his old friend Bragorn climbed the ladder up to the roof - presumably - to rescue Ærosylle, or at least to convince her to come down. He had meant to go himself, but Bragorn had insisted that with five sisters at home, he would be well-qualified to talk to the girl. But, Rochadan thought to himself, that was precisely the problem with sending him: Bragorn, among other things, liked to hear himself talk and could go on forever if you let him. Rochadan watched as Bragorn reached the top of the ladder, waved at them all on the ground, then flopped over on to his back on the warm thatch of the barn roof. He could hear the rumble of Bragorn’s voice, talking away, as Ærosylle remained perched near the roof’s peak. As Bragorn’s dangling foot landed on the top rung of the ladder and began moving the entire ladder idly back and forth, Rochadan exchanged a glance with Kannah, who still held the poker he had given her earlier.

“Well, do something,” she said crossly, placing her hands on her hips. “If you leave it up to your friend, we’ll be out here all day.”

Rochadan laughed. “Between him and Ærosylle, we could be, at that.” He stepped closer to the base of the ladder and put out a hand to stop its restless sway.

“Ho, Bragorn!” he called up to his friend. “What’s happening up there? Are you planning to come down?”

In response, Bragorn pulled up his feet. Presently, his face appeared over the edge of the roof. “Well, yes, I am, but there’s a wee problem. You see, the ladder doesn’t like me and we haven’t figured out just yet what to do about it.”

Behind Rochadan, Kannah called out, “The ladder’s not the only one who doesn’t like you, you know!” She brandished the poker.

Bragorn laughed loudly and kissed his hand at the serving girl. “Later, my love! You may abuse me to you heart’s content, but right now it’s the ladder’s turn.”

The ladder? That sounds like a bit of Ærosylle’s nonsense, thought Rochadan to himself. He groaned inwardly. She was always telling people things like that, that the stair didn’t like you, or the door was a grump. Leave it to Bragorn to believe her.

“What do you mean the ladder doesn’t like you?” he asked. “It’s just some wood and nails.”

“Well, that’s what Ærosylle tells me.” Bragorn withdrew his face for a moment to say something to the girl at the peak of the roof. Rochadan could have sworn he heard the words: See? I told you it was Rochadan that the ladder’s angry with. Such an attitude!

Behind him, Kannah threw up her hands as Bragorn’s face reappeared at the edge of the roof. “We can’t come down until we figure out what to do about the ladder,” Bragorn said pleasantly. “Have you got another one?”

At that, Rochadan felt a flare of temper. “No, we haven’t got another one!” he shouted. “There’s nothing wrong with this one. In fact, I just mended it this afternoon.” He was just putting his foot on the lowest rung of the disputed ladder to climb up himself when a shadow passed over him. Looking up quickly, he saw the dark brown body of a large hawk with a brilliant red tail sail over the roof of the stable, barely missing Bragorn before rising upward on a fresh thermal. Out of sight of Rochadan, Ærosylle shrieked. Rochadan shot up the ladder as quickly as he could go.