[Nevtalathiel]

* * * DALE - Girion * * *

Girion was taken aback. Of all the things he had imagined Bram to say, this was not one of them. He had imagined aguments, fights, shouting, but reconciliation was not among the diplomatic tools he was used to.

Gingerly, he reached out a hand to the one Bram offered. Gently, they shook hands and Girion found himself smiling, despite the newness of a situation. He found that this was more satisfying than hitting someone; now he knew he had an ally, instead of a fearful enemy and suddenly he felt guilty that he had hated Bram so vehemently and for so long. If only he had spoken to him at the beginning of their journey instead of ignoring and snubbing him, he might have been able to learn a lot from this man. Even now, he felt somehow that he would be letting himself down by admitting that he had been wrong. He was not yet sure enough of himself to ask for help, especially not from someone like Bram, who he believed already thought of him as weak.

"Forgive me for having been so rude to you Bram. I am not used to being ordered around and it is not something I enjoy. I will give your regards to my father when I return, but please excuse me, I must get on with my work."

Hastily, he turned and went below deck, hoping to find some food to help prepare, a task he found he enjoyed. In the darkness of the kitchen, no one noticed Girion's bright blush, though he was so disracted, he cut his fingers several times.