Krosan had been eating quietly. The conversations went on highly on how they where going to do next. He did not care. All he wanted was a clear shot at those betraying rats. Some of the group went to the fire. Others sat by the table to discuss matters of no importants to him.
Krosan went over to Barak. The man had grown upset with the suggestions. It was a stupid idea any way you would place it. The farmers would just see them coming. After a messenger of the king had died, strangers would come and ask if something happened lately. Anyway you would put it, it would be foolish.
Krosan twisted a chair and sat down, with his arm resting on the back. Barak seemed to be troubled. He had no idea. Neither did Krosan. He thought up what he could do, but only came up with riding on.
"What do you think Barak? I can only think of riding on. There is no way we can find that rider. Unless we have a good hound or something. I suggest we sleep the night over it. The night is always a good council." Krosan said.
"I think that is best. We are all to tired to do anything. Sleep is best."
Krosan stood up and took some of his paper from his pocket. He always carried some paper around when he was bored. For some reason he was good at drawing. He sat down at the table and looked at the men and women by the fire.
He first scribbled down the rough shapes of the mantle piece. He felt inspiration dwelling and drew the people by the fire. The cosy armchairs soon where filled up by a flirting Eorlyn, confused Rhys and the others. Krosan "accidentally" drew Eorlyn while winking. He smiled at the face of Rhys. He was definitely not as witty as his sister. The drawing's process was fast and after an hour or so he was satisfied. He took the other drawings out of his bag and placed the one he just made with the others.
The man always had a satisfied feeling when something was finished.
It still gnawed on him that he was not sure if he could trust anyone. They all looked very innocent by the fire. But what was innocence anyway?
He took out his whetstone and sat by the fire sharpening his short sword. He cut of the short piece of rope holding his white hair together and let it hang loosely on his shoulders. The sneering sound of the stone scraping over the blade caused some annoyance with Jisela, but the man ignored her and was amused by the dancing flames that danced about two feet from his face. Is his sword was sharp enough, he placed the whetstone back in his waist belt and stuck the sword back in it's sheath. He took one of the small tables where people could put their drinks on and laid his feet on it. He sat down back, pulled his cloak over his eyes and fell into a shallow sleep.
[ May 24, 2003: Message edited by: Helkahothion ]
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