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Seeing that Harreld had Garreth well in hand, Brokhelm stood up and approached the woman sitting at the head of the table, having at last deduced her proper position among the gathering. And withdrawing 2 small coins from a well mended tunic, he placed them on the table between the innkeeper and Eodwine. “My sister and I are quite willing to pay the storyteller’s wages, if the good lady will permit it. I think a tankard or two is small enough price for a good yarn, provided the teller doesn’t end the story before finishing up his payment. But you might know better, Lady Innkeeper, whether this dealer in bought or borrowed tales sets too high a value on his wares.” Brokhelm turned and winked at his sister, before he addressed Eodwine. “It all honesty, it would do us good to hear a story.”
Bêthberry, picking up the coins tapped Brokhelm on the back. “I will let you decide for yourself what the tale might be worth, should you be granted one. But this is Edoras, and the mead is not brought here from across the sea.” She held out the larger coins to Brokhelm. “You need not be quite so generous.”
“Excuse me, I was forgetting,” Brokhelm said growing serious. “My sister and I require lodging. I hope that this extra is sufficient to secure a place for us here, out of the cold, that we may rest under your roof.”
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