[Arry]

Surely there are more important things that a Captain might attend to than questioning some young man who wishes to speak with us? But, then again, perhaps he thinks we will draw our blades and have at the stripling for his impertinence. Gaeradhel’s thoughts held a hint of amusement as did his face. His lips curved up briefly at the scene.

Rôsgollo pulled his mount up to where he could see the scene more clearly. He shifted a bit forward on his seat to see both the speakers. The young man, Faerim, after a very brief falter, had taken command of himself and seemed to be acquitting himself well in the face of one who outranked him. He nudged his brother. He has some measure of strength in him . . . Faerim . . . do you not think so?

For a man . . . yes. Gaeredhel watched Faerim for a moment. Perhaps he will escape this foolish venture’s doom and live long enough to be scion of a healthier branch on his family’s tree.

Rôsgollo raised his brows questioningly at his brother.

He is Carthor’s son . . . Gaeredhel went on. There are many interesting stories whispered about the father. Dissolute . . . married more to his command than to his wife and family.

The brothers’ eyes shifted to another who had come up to the edges of this scene. A woman looked on at the two men, her eyes paying particular attention to the captain. Her glance fell on the Elves, her cloak parting slightly with the movement. She, too, had a young child held close against her. Gilly’s face lit up at the sight of another small being. ‘Baby!’ he squealed in delight, a grin on his face. Rôsgollo guided his mount around the Captain and the Faerim to where the woman sat.

‘Greetings, Mistress,’ he said, coming only close enough that she would not startle at his approach. ‘My charge,’ he continued, indicating Gilly, ‘wishes to greet another of his own age and size.’ Gilly waved the piece of waybread he’d been munching on at the other child. ‘Baby?’ came his plaintive question.