Scarburg Meadhall

[Formendacil]

"You'd share a pint with us master?"

Normally, Náin would have picked up on the sudden formality of the two Men, and realised they had decided they might have been a bit too forward with him, distantly royal master stonecrafter that he was--and normally he would have attempted to alleviate their concerns, in an indirect, Dwarven way. Men were, in general, so less accomplished, being younger, and so less talented, not being Dwarves, that unless it was a matter of craft, he did not care to enforce his superior station, being well-accustomed himself to the sharp-barbed comments of his own Dwarven teachers.

As it happened, however, Náin was too tired to notice the change in tone, and merely replied with customary dignity.

"A pint of ale would be most welcome indeed, Stigend. I journeyed most of the night, and I have been going over the estate while your people have fested today, and I am tiring."

"It must have been a good day's work, indeed, then," said Garstan, "for we always tired long before you when we worked together in Edoras. Why don't you and Stigend sit here, and I'll fetch us the ales."

"I am not so tired as all that," protested Náin, mostly out of Dwarven stubbornness, "but I shall accept your offer. Nonetheless, I do not wish to bore you with my company, which I fear is full only of my trade and my new dwellings in the Glittering Caves."

[Groin Redbeard]

The concept of the stone throwing contest was not what Erbrand had in mind. When Lithor explained the rules it relieved Erbrand to know that it was not a test of strength accuracy. This would save him for the other games, despite his eagerness to remain active the task path had about worn him out, it would be good for him to play a leisurly game.

~~~~

The game was very enjoyable, it was very refreshing to once again interact with his Gondorian friends, Balvir and Matrim. They hadn't much time to talk during the busy month that had passed since they had first gone on their great hunting trip. Matrim had not changed a bit, he still remained the playful young man that Erbrand had met a month ago. Balvir still remained his quiet stern self, he seemed quite pleased with himself at winning despite Matrim's tease.

"And now, people of Scarburg," said Matrim shouting to the crowd, "you know you can always turn to the valiant and skillful Captain Balvir of Gondor, if you're ever in need of a pebble-thrower." The crowd roared with laughter at this, Matrim was quite pleased.

"You missed your way, becoming a soldier, Matrim," Balvir said, sounding slightly annoyed, "you should have become a king's jester instead of my lieutenant." Matrim bowed with an undimming smile, they were always poking fun at each other.

Erbrand had finished congratulating the players, who were in turn congratulating him, when he saw the long missed figure of Crabannan coming across the Scar. Crabannan stopped by some of the kitchen ladie, and leaned over to them, probably asking what had just transpired. Erbrand's mood quickly changed as the man walk past him and examined the pile of spears, picking one up and examining it's shaft and head.

Erbrand avoided him, walking past quickly and picking up his own spear. It was a strange weapon to him, he had used it only once in boar hunt with his father, still the concept of the weapon's use was not strange to him. He balanced the spear on his hand and grasped it where he could get the most distance out of it. Erbrand glanced back at Crabannan, who was was also staring at him.

"Good luck, Erbrand," he said, nodding slightly and gave a faint smile.

"I'm sure I'll need it against a man such as yourself," said Erbrand, he was sure that this was not the first time the brawler had used this weapon.