[Thinlómien]

"Funny how different names make things themselves look different. Have you ever noticed that?" Rían had asked, almost casually. Grimhorn had nodded silently, trying to control his feelings and his expressions. He had felt the anger growing inside him. The tiny voice of a woman long dead reminding him of his temper was not to be heard anymore. How does that brat dare to say that to me tonight, after all things he has said, and to say that so casually. Funny. Funny indeed! I'm dying of laughter! Oh funny, how Grimgor Bearhand and Grimgor the Owl's Eye sound different and make the things look different! He had gripped his axe, this time less unconsciously.

Grimhorn had forced himself to calm down. He was no fool, he knew he needed to talk this through. He also knew he couldn't beat the younger man or scare him away. In either case the hidden truths might be lost from him forever. He had forced his fingers to let go of the axe and take the pint instead.

Unfortunately for both of them, Rían continued the line that was making it more difficult for Grimhorn to control himself. Pointing out that Grimhorn might have learned his opinions, not formed themselves by himself, was not maybe the best thing to say to soothe his anger. Especially when he himself knew it was true.

Grimhorn kept silent, but he wanted to roar and throw the table on someone, preferably Rían. Rían Sundry. Son of the hermit Sundry. Son of the man who had made Grimhorn's father so mad that he had wanted to kill him and his family. If that characteristic ran in the Sundry family, I wouldn't wonder, Grimhorn thought. I wouldn't even accuse my father for wanting to kill them. Then despite of himself and his anger, he grinned. Oh boy, that characteristic of getting mad at Sundrys must run in the family as well, he thought.

Grimhorn's good mood, however, didn't last long. Quit that whining about painful memories, little boy! You are not the only one in this world who has them. It would be a wonder to pass my age, or even yours, without getting them, Grimhorn thought as Rían told about his memories.

And then, at the top of it, Rían Sundry rementioned the ethnic cleansing. This was enough for Grimhorn for this night. He rose up suddenly hitting the table with his enormous fist. "Quit that babbling! Grimgor Bearhand never was a leader of any ethnic cleansing!"

"Greäw the Pretender's followers either returned to normal society and started doing proper work or killed themselves or wandered off and never returned! Of those freaks, you can never tell. They should have killed themselves, though, that would have served them right!"

Rían was speechless. Whether he was thinking of what to say or too scared to say anything, Grimhorn didn't know. To tell the truth, at the moment he didn't even care. He forced himself to relax and sat down again. He took a sip from his pint. His hands were still trembling. Teasingly, a familiar woman's voice echoed from his memories: "See? You made yourself stupid, my bear. Adult people can control their anger. Little boys are the ones who don't."

Grimhorn let his eyes meet Rían's. He didn't pretend to be polite, or not angry. Instead, he asked bluntly: "That's enough for me. Tonight, you've continuosly insulted my father, without giving grounds to your accusation. I would be glad to hear, why are you accusing him of leading an ethnic cleansing?" He took another sip. "As far as I know, such thing never took place in the Beorning Lands."