[Nevtalathiel]

*****DALE - Girion*****

Girion had calmed down over breakfast. He had been allowed time to think things over a little and a few quiet words with Rubin as his fingers were bandaged had improved his mood and restored the majority of his confidence. Now, let off the washing up because of his bandaged but only superficially damaged fingers, he was up on deck, enjoying the fresh air for the first time since he had boarded the boat.

The wind was brisker than ever and the sail was being whipped at the edges. Above the small vessel, clouds of a particularly malicious shade of grey were massing, no doubt preparing an attack for the travellers.

Girion felt himself instinctively reaching for the pocket where normally he kept a meagre supply of pipeweed. It would be nice to sit in a tavern and have a drink, a smoke and a game of cards, with no pressure to get on well with everyone. It had been a long time since he had been able to sit and have a drink, or several, play a few rounds of cards, lose or win a little money; he had never minded, since money was never a problem, and enjoy a smoke. His father seemed to dislike such habits, and it was true that Girion had been involved in his share of brawls, mostly as the orchestrator; for someone for whom money was never a problem, he cared over much about cheating.

For the moment though, Girion's pocket was empty and the nearest inn could have been a thousand leagues away for all he knew. As he withdrew his hand from his pocket, he thought of something else. He raced down to his cabin just as everyone else was finishing the washing up and trying to get up the stairs. Orodan whirled gracefully out of the way, maintaining his balance on the stairs despite Girion and a sudden lurch from the boat, but some of the dwarves were not as lucky. Durgan looked particularly disgruntled as he was knocked to the ground by Girion speeding past, but at that point, Girion did not care.

In his cabin, he began rifling through his belongings, searching for a small ebony box. As soon as he had found it, he turned and ran out, vaulting up the stairs and knocking over the still recovering Durgan. Once he was out on the deck, he held the small box aloft proudly and called out, only a little out of breath,

"Anyone for a game of chance?"