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Faramund
"What do you mean by "we"? Or "that woman"? Do I have to remind you that you are talking about the king's Mead Hall and your personal responsibility as a lord to the law and to your king? Or do you have some other structures around here to wield power?"
Lord Athanar was being curt with him, Faramund thought. It reminded him of his father; somehow the old man always put him in a posture of defense. This new lord was doing the same thing. Very annoying! But he was the king's appointed man, and therefore Faramund had better placate him or he might become a gnat in his ear like dear old pop.
"Forgive me, lord Athanar," he wheedled, "your Gondorian laden speech is lost on me. I do not know who struck what nor what that has to do with wielding power." He glanced to his side with a half-smile for his men, hoping they appreciated his half-respecting dig at this man's expense. He glowered: the fools were too afraid of him.
"In any case, "we" lords who visited Scarburg are the "we", of course, and I think you know the woman better than I. I mean no offense for forgetting her name. Far be it from me to stand in the way of the king's business. How can I be of-" he paused, half bowing with an ingratiating smirk, "-service?"
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