"So who's your pa?"
Ayeth had been startled by that question. Not many people asked that, did they? Or was it just that she was unused to social interaction especially with men?
"Hlothere Hwaindere, but he is old now although in his youth he used to be part of King Éomer's éored. He was a great fighter, until that day on the Pelennor Fields," here she looked up into the faces of the two men. "He fell and was among the ones gathered and thought to be dead. It was lucky that someone actually realised that his heart was still beating." She could feel a familiar wetness forming in her eyes. "I was lucky that he was found. My mother died in childbirth, he was all I had remaining."
She looked down at the table having completely lost her appetite in these reminiscences. She hated herself for having no control over her emotions. This was years ago yet she still felt the pain and fear of almost having lost a father. She hoped she wouldn't lose all composure and break down in front of these two men and tried to prevent this from happening by suddenly becoming completely engrossed in pushing the food still on her plate into a little heap in the centre.
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