The White Horse Inn, Act II

[Nonesuch]

The contest had been noted by a man on the stairs. After Laevin had been kind enough to pay for a room and his board, he had no intention of snubbing the man. He had hurriedly bathed, scrubbing hard at the dirt and knots in his hair. When he emerged from his bath, he found that his tattered clothes had disappeared and had been replaced with a fresh shirt, breeches and a pair of worn shoes made of soft leather, all used but serviceable. A note lying on top of his new wardrobe read "Courtesy of Bêthberry."

An odd name, he had mused, but he was thankful nonetheless. To his surprise, the clothing fit him very well, as did the shoes. He glanced up at a mirror and examined his unkempt beard. With a nod to himself, he resolved to take full advantage of his good fortune. So when he appeared on the steps which descended to the common room, his face was freshly shaved, though nicked here and there by his knife.

He made his way to Laevin's table and stood waiting for the large man to notice him. Laevin looked up from his plate and said, "Yes?" The man smiled and sat across from the blacksmith. "Thank you for your generosity. It is not often that a ... wanderer such as I receives such a gift."

Laevin's eyes narrowed for a moment as he examined the blond man sitting across from him. Then he took note of the crippled arm and nodded. "You do clean up well," said Laevin. "What is your name?"

After a short pause, the man answered. "You may call me Úmarth."

Laevin stared for a moment, then laughed. "No doubt, no doubt! But let us get you a mug and a plate before we speak more of this."